


To Touch the Face of God

by RavenSinead



Series: Transient Eternity [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 68,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenSinead/pseuds/RavenSinead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The quest to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes, save Arl Eamon, and heal the warden's sight. Does walking where a god has walked impart strength or weakness? When bodies are fractured by risks, torn by dedication, and broken by devotion, will the love burning within the spirit dim, or flare all the brighter? Or...will it walk away all together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Re-learning Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to BioWare. I own nothing.

**Salem Cousland**

     "Stop trying to see." a harsh command; the qunari's voice. "Do not become so fixated on what you have lost that you cannot grasp what else you have."

     I nodded and wiped sweat from my brow. Clenching my swords tighter, I tried to regain focus. _My eyes are broken. I must make use of my other senses._

     "I'm ready."

     "You are not." Sten countered. "You humans. Thought is not to do, to do is not to think. Sever yourself from one before you attempt the other."

     _Right_. Sten was a strange man...if one could call the qunari men. But he had taken it upon himself to re-teach me the sword. After I had lost my sight to Andraste's Flames, a poison used by Leliana's once lover and mentor, Marjolaine, I thought I had lost all usefulness as a warrior. Sten had not endured my melancholy well. We had publicly upbraided me in front of the camp, decrying my weaknesses and lack of adaptability.

     _All who are born to the Qun will serve their purpose,_ he had said, _regardless of limitations. Even if blind, the warrior will submit to the Qun, and take_ _his place._

     Angry, I had demanded that he instruct me as those among his people were taught. To my surprise, he had accepted...with a sneer.

     I closed my eyes, even though I knew the gesture was futile. I struggled to focus on what I felt: the wind, the warmth on my face from the setting sun, the rivulets of sweat trickling down my back and over my face. I concentrated on the whispering of the leaves, the song of the crickets.

     _Feel, hear the natural world,_ more of Sten's advice. _Ground yourself in all that is around you. When you find something outside of that, then you know where to point your blade._

     Movement, leather creaking, a cutting through the wind. I lifted my blades and blocked Sten's overhead blow. The weight slid from my swords and I shifted my stance...caught the flat of Sten's blade against my rib cage. I staggered back, gasping for breath.

     I dropped to my knees and Sten grunted. _Maker's breath!_ I swore, driving my swords into the ground and clawing my way to my feet. _I have been through worse. Heavens and hells, I died not a fortnight ago. If I can walk back from eternity,_ _I can fight blind._

     "Again." I panted, wanting to speak before the qunari could find more disdain to harbor against me.

     "Are you certain?" he asked, baring my considerable fragility with those three words.

     "I am."

     He grunted again as I regained my feet; fell deadly silent. I tensed, waiting for his next strike.

     "Relax your body." he ordered for the hundredth time. "You prime your weapons because you know my attack is imminent. Darkspawn you can sense, but against bandits, assassins, and the like, you are doomed. Only until you become part of the earth you tread on will you be ready to face any opponent."

     I worked the tension from my body, trying to heed his advice. I took a deep breath, cursing as another strike took the back of my knee.

     "You see?" Sten asked. "You are ill-prepared."

     _I hate this._ I bit my lip. _Andraste's ass, I bloody hate this._

     "Damn you." I muttered.

     "On your feet, warden." he sounded as though he smiled, but I had never seen him do so. I got to my feet. "And stop cursing at me. You chose your fate. You must bear the consequence. Now, again."

     Too late, I heard the sound of footsteps. I stepped back, raising my blades, only to feel his massive fist against my face. I fell back, dropping my swords, collapsing to the ground.

     "Enough." an Orlesian accent carried a false calm. "Sten, she's had enough."

     The qunari grunted again. His Qun did not allow for love. He could not grasp the concept of one soul becoming so entwined with another's that it overrode the will of Self or dedication to a cause.

     _No. I haven't. We've been beyond fortunate this last fortnight. It will not be long until we find ourselves once more surrounded by enemies._

     "I'm all right, Leliana." I muttered, standing up for the third time.

     "You're not." her hand wrapped around my arm and I jerked in surprise. I had not heard her approach.

     _Damn it!_

     I wanted to pull my arm out of her grasp, but I restrained myself. For the last two weeks, Leliana had been my eyes, my protector. She had assumed the role I had grown accustomed to. I no longer knew where I stood.

     "All right." I swallowed my pride and let her gather my swords. I bristled as she set them into their sheathes.

     _So bloody useless._

     Leliana took my hand. "Thank you, Sten." I said, not wanting him to hate me entirely.

     He grunted yet again and I smiled, expecting nothing less. Leliana guided me back to our camp, to the tent we shared together. She had foregone her privacy to take care of me.

     _Because now I need looking after,_ I berated myself again.

     The tent flap moved aside and Leliana ushered me in. Deft fingers wrapped around my shoulders and lifted my swords from my back. I exhaled, grateful for the freedom from the weight.

     "You're working yourself too hard, love." Leliana whispered. "It takes time to acclimate to a lost sense."

     "I don't have time." I replied, speaking the truth.

     "Sit down." I could hear the ire in her voice.

     _What have I done now?_

     I obeyed, kneeling before I sat, uncertain of the ground. "Leliana..."

     "That brute split your lip." she said from the corner of the tent.

     I reached up, gingerly touching the corner of my mouth. My fingers came away sticky. "It's fine."

     She sighed. I could sense that she was troubled, but could tell nothing unless she spoke. "What's troubling you, dear heart." I asked.

     A cool cloth was pressed against my lips, cleaning away the blood and taking down the swelling. "You." her voice barely rose above a whisper.

     I reached up and took her hand in my own. "I...I do not know how to answer that."

     "You are pushing yourself too hard." her words poured out in a tumble. "It's only been two weeks, Salem. You walked out of death and two days later we started traveling towards the Frostback mountains."

     _Of course. I should have realized this would bother her. Damn it, Salem, stop insulating yourself._

     "Loghain's men were staking out the camp, becoming suspicious." I defended my actions. "Staying was too risky."

     "But at the risk of your health, your life?" Leliana exclaimed. "You barely sleep nights, you're still far too pale, and your wounds have still not healed. All this and I find you, after an exhausting day's travel, being flung about like a rag doll by Sten. It _hurts_ , Salem. It hurts me to watch you do this to yourself."

     I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. "It's all right, Leli. I'm all right."

     She jabbed her fingers into my side where Marjolaine had driven in her blade. I cried out and doubled over, breathing hard.

     "You aren't." her voice was ice.

     "Maker's breath!" I gasped.

     "You are not invincible, my warden." I felt the warmth of her hand on my cheek. "And it hurts me to watch you run yourself ragged. We have time, love. Please, rest."

     A thousand arguments raged behind my lips, but I stilled them. I knew we did not have time. Leliana knew it too. Arl Eamon's life hinged on our speed. Our safety depended on my ability to fight. I would not be a burden, I would _not_. But I did not voice those thoughts aloud.

     "Stay with me?" I asked, smiling for her sake.

     "Of course." she sounded relieved.

     I lay down and took Leliana in my arms. Arguments could wait for another time. For the moment, all was well within my world.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. A Quiet Despair

**Leliana**

    I waited until Salem's breathing deepened, enjoying the warmth of her arms. Gently, I extricated myself from her embrace and watched her sleep. Her eyes shifted restlessly beneath her lids. I frowned. Her nightmares had been getting worse and coming more frequently. I did not know if they were caused by her tainted blood or the horrific memories of her past.

      _Or her death,_ my own guilt insisted.  _Who knows the horror of returning from eternity? Certainly not I. Though I have come close to death, I have not crossed that line._

     Salem shifted in her sleep, affording me the opportunity I wanted. I lifted her shirt, wincing at the new bruising along her ribs. 

      _Little fool,_ I thought, a smile tugging at my lips. Ever since the qunari had taunted her, Salem had been dogged in her determination to re-master the sword. Sten's manner of instruction was far from gentle, and while I admired Salem's resolve, I feared she would push herself beyond her limits. In the two weeks that had passed since our ordeal in Denerim, my warden had withdrawn, speaking less, smiling less.

      _Feeling less,_ my wounded heart chimed. I pursed my lips, trying to push away the truth of what I felt. Salem's touch had grown hesitant, her kisses had become distant, but I had no desire to push any other issue further. 

      _But I **ache** for you, my warden._  I traced her strong jawline, feeling the muscles there clench beneath my fingertips.  _I miss being the cause of your sleepless nights. I long for your whispers against my ears. I know you feel you are not whole, that, without your sight, you are somehow lessened in my eyes. And I fear speaking to you of this, lest it bring more pain, more silence._

I lifted her shirt yet further, inspecting the wound left by Marjolaine's dagger. Scar tissue grew towards the center, which was still an angry red. 

      _Still healing._ I frowned, unhappy with her progress. _We should not have left Denerim so soon. Wynne agreed with me..._

* * *

      _"We can't stay here." Salem argues, sightless eyes burning. "Every watch, every camp patrol has seen Loghain's men. They're suspicious. We cannot afford..."_ _  
_

_"To lose our leader." I interrupt. Salem turns her face towards the sound of my voice. For the first time since we met...her gaze wounds me._

_"I am not what is important at this moment." she says, voice low. "I have already delayed us too long. I will not allow my condition to damage the safety of this group as a whole."_

_"You died in my arms two nights ago!" I lose my temper. "I watched Wynne force lightning into your heart! Magic only works so fast, Salem! Stop putting yourself at risk!"_

_"I'm blind, Leliana!" Salem thunders, frightening me, hurting me. "Chances stand that if we encounter danger, I will be unceremoniously forced to the back of the line! That's plenty of time to heal."_

_"The strain of travel itself could damage you worse than combat." I retaliate. "You cannot just blindly charge in..." I stop, realizing my choice of words. "Salem, forgive me. I did not..."_

_"Don't speak." she turns her face away from me. "Just...don't."_

_"Leliana is right, Salem." Wynne's calm breaks our thunderstorm. "With your adverse reaction to it...magic has done all it can for you. Those wounds can still re-open. There is still internal damage. It would be unwise to attempt travel."_

_Salem pinches the bridge of her nose, a sure sign of frustration. "It would be worse to be hung as traitors. Then we would have no defense against the Blight. A little blood spilled, a little strength lost...it doesn't matter. After all," her voice turns bitter, "it is not as though I have a long life awaiting me should we survive this nightmare."_

_Blood drains from my face. It is one thing to possess the knowledge of Salem's fate. It is quite another to have her spit it in my face._

_"Be that as it may," Wynne intervenes, "if you risk your health now, you may find yourself too weak...or even dead...before the final battle."_

_"It's a bet." Salem says. "Wynne, please tell the others we break camp at first light."_

_Wynne purses her lips, but knows better than to argue any further with the warden. She leaves and I am alone with Salem._

_"Love..." I begin._

_"You should get some rest." she cuts my words short. "We've a long day ahead of us."_

_"I am not afraid to face it." I refuse to let her ignore me. " **I** am not my concern."_

_"Don't concern yourself with me." Salem mutters. "I cannot...cannot bear this. The burden of my uselessness is devastating. I must at least try to remain an effectual leader, lest I lose what few allies I have."_

_"Kill the leader to save the group?" I ask, smiling. "That in itself is highly ineffectual, my warden."_

_Salem pinches the bridge of her nose once more before her shoulders begin shaking with laughter. "I'm losing my mind." she groans._

_I move towards her and wrap my arms around her. "It will be fine, my love. I promise. I will be with you every step of this journey."_

_"You'll have to be." Salem tucks her head against my shoulder. "I cannot **see**."_

_"I love you, Salem." I whisper, kissing her hair. "I am so sorry for my earlier words. I didn't think, I didn't..."_

_"You spoke your mind." she raises her face to mine, trying in vain to connect with vision she does not have. "My reaction was petty and far too swift. Forgive me, please."_

_"I do." I kiss her, gentle, trying to convey reassurances that I cannot put into words. "I...I still think this is unwise."_

_"As do I." Salem agrees, at last. "But it is a necessity. I...I will be careful, Leliana."_

* * *

     And she had been. Until Sten had told her that he could teach her to overcome her limitations. Then she had become reckless once again. She had thrown herself into training wholeheartedly, abusing her still fragile body.

     New bruises, muscle tears, and cuts appeared every night. It worried me more than I cared to admit. I was surprised that the qunari had left her bones unbroken. 

     "I love you, Salem." I whispered. "Please understand. Whatever time is left to you is precious to me. Do not rush to end it."

     Salem moaned in her sleep, her hand moving over her heart. I winced. My blade had delivered the antidote that had saved her life, but the wound had been deep.

     "Leli..." Salem turned her head to the side and her fingers clutched at the ground. 

     "Salem?" I lifted her hand. "Are you awake?"

     Her jaw tightened and the muscles in her neck jumped.  _Nightmare,_ I realized. Careful not to wake her, I removed the knife she kept near her side during the night. Even blind, she could take the blade and end my life all too easily. I had discovered this shortly after I joined the warden's band, on the first night I had forcibly woken her from dreaming. Had Marjolaine's training not prepared me for such things, I would have been killed. 

     A strangled cry wrenched from her throat and I held her hand tighter. Salem pulled away, searching for her weapon. 

      _Please wake up,_ I begged with my thoughts. 

     I started singing, low and soothing. It had worked before, slowly bringing her out of her nightmare and back into the waking world. Tonight, however, she remained trapped. 

     Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her face. Her brow creased and I reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

     " _Leliana!"_ she shrieked my name as she bolted upright. " _Leli!_ "

     I reached out to her, taking her in my arms. Salem's breaths were harsh and labored, her hands cold as they roved all over my body. 

     "Are you all right?" her words tripped over themselves. "Are you hurt? Leli? Are you here? Can you hear me?"

     "I'm here." I assured her. "I am fine, love. You were dreaming, Salem."

     A shaky sigh of relief made her sag against me. "I dreamt you were dying." her hands traced their way up to my face. "Your blood was all over my hands and I couldn't stop it. You were so...so..."

      _She dreams of my death? The sole time her sight returns is in dreaming, and she is forced to watch me die._ "I'm here, my love. With you."

     "Don't leave." she begged, destroying the barriers and tension that had risen between us since we left Denerim. "Please don't leave."

     "Lie back." I eased her body down, fitting my form to hers. 

     "I don't want to sleep." Salem's voice trembled. "I don't want to see that again. Maker's blood, Leliana, is there no rest for me anywhere? My sight is gone and now the only way I can see you is in dreaming. Where you die. It's not  _right_." she struck the ground with her fist; my heart and the earth cracked. "I just want to see you." Salem whispered. "To see you smile."

     I smiled and brushed her fingers over my lips, placing feather light kisses against them. "Sleep, Salem. I will be here in the morning."

     "Promise me." 

     "I swear it."

 

 


	3. Darkness Hints at Light

**Salem**

     "Damn it!" I swore, spitting dirt out of my mouth. Zevran's laugh echoed across the wind. 

     "Good try, warden!" he called. 

     I wanted to murder him. I wanted to take him by the throat and choke the life from his scrawny assassin's neck. It had been Sten's idea to bring the Antivan into our training. According to the qunari, Zevran would provide a different challenege, a stealthy and swift approach. His attacks did not use strength to gain the upper hand, unlike Sten's. I had agreed, hoping to make at least some progress. 

      _But no. Sten is slow and I can barely sense his attacks. Trying to fight Zevran finds me...eating dirt._

     "It was not good." Sten groused. "And it was not a try. Pick yourself up, warden. We begin again."

     I stood up and yesterday's bruises twinged.  _Leliana is going to flay me alive._

     I brushed sweat from my face, trying to forget about last night. The dream had been so vivid, so real. I had not been able to distinguish it from reality when I awoke. Leliana had been quiet all day, guiding me, silent, waves of guilt emanating from her and thickening the air. 

      _How can she blame herself for my own demented dreams? After all, when is my sleep ever pleasant? It is my own tainted blood. My blindness is my fault._

     "Warden, focus." Sten ordered. 

     "No." my mind was too crowded with other thoughts. I would find myself tasting the earth once again if I continued. "No more for the moment. Burrow."

     The mabari raced up to me and barked, standing still as I grabbed the scruff of his neck. He had adapted more easily to my blindness than I had, anticipating my needs and guiding me when Leliana was not there to offer her eyes. We took slow, hesitant steps towards the camp. I bit my lip and stopped, feeling a familiar numbness spread across my side. 

     It had been happening ever since Wynne brought me back from the edge of death. My skin would go cold, and even if I pressed my hand against it, I could feel nothing. It worried me, but I would not speak to Wynne or Leliana about it. They agreed too much about the state of my health. I would not be relegated to my tent while the days waxed on unendingly. 

      _Why do the both of them seem to forget that we are racing against the sun?_ I wondered. Burrow led me to the campfire and I sat down, staring towards the flames, only able to feel their heat...not able to see their dance.  _I did not ask for this measure of loyalty._ I smiled, along with my thoughts.  _I did not expect this measure of love. Perhaps that is why my dreams have changed. My greatest fear is no longer the evil of Howe's men, or the battle with the archdemon. It is losing Leliana._

"Well, don't you look fabulous?" Morrigan's saucy tones insinuated themselves next to me. "I had heard sweat-sheen and mud were the height of Orlesian fashion. How do you manage, Lady Cousland?"

     "I can scarcely bear the weight of my own magnificence." I muttered, wondering at the witch's almost mirthful tone. 

     "Oh, come now, warden. Is it too much to ask that my melancholy remain my own? Although I must admit, 'tis not fair that you play it so well."

      _Your humor has greatly improved since your mother cast your lot in with us. I am glad of this, if only for the fact that it keeps me from fearing for my life._

     "I thought a darker hue might serve me better."

     "Tiring of your little sun-spot songstress are we?" Morrigan snarked, coy.

     "No.": I hastened to disagree. "Not that."  _Never that._

     "But if the world is dark to your eyes, it must be so to your heart as well." Morrigan guessed with her eerie intuition. 

      _I do not want this conversation._ "Perhaps."

     "Do not think  _we_ are blind to your struggles, warden." Morrigan read my tone. "I've watched from afar as the qunari tries in vain to separate your mind from your sight. 'Tis not womething well understood by those such as you."

     "What do you mean?" I asked, relieved. 

     While Sten was blatantly honest concerning my ineptitude, he had given me the hope that I could improve, and Zevran had spouted nothing but encouragement the entire evening. In truth, both of them had made me utterly miserable, hope and encouragement juxtaposed against condescension and brual honesty serving to impale me with knowledge of my failures.

     "You are too grounded in that which is seen." Morrigan quipped. "Perhaps it is to do with your nobility. Those of noble blood quite often ignore the world around them in pursuit of ever distant horizons. Without those horizons in view, you are quite lost."

      _I definitely do not want this conversation._ "Well, now that you have laid all my weaknesses bare, do you intend to leave me with naked wounds?"

     "Now why would I do such a thing?" I could have sworn she grinned. "You would simply ignore them and forge ahead."

      _Not you as well,_ I groaned inwardly. "What do you want, Morrigan?"

     "'Tis only my intention to help you." she admitted, shocking me. "After all, and I should sever my tongue for speaking these words, but...it meant a...a great deal...when you placed your trust in me. I should very much like to aid you."

     My curiosity piqued. "Go on."

     Morrigan took a deep breath. "The qunari is right in his assertions, but his methods are quite mournfully askew." another light laugh. "I doubt a warrior such as he could accurately describe the actual severance of Self from the physical world and melding of it into the natural."

     "And you can?" I wondered, allowing myself to hope that the feral witch could help me understand Sten's cryptic instructions. 

     "But of course." I felt an awkward hand on my shoulder. "'Tis is exactly what is done every time I shift my shape. The human consciousness recedes and the primal comes forth."

      _That makes...sense._ "But you told me you could not teach someone without magic how to shift shape."

     "And, as usual, I would be right." I wanted to see her catty smile, feel it catch in a moment of camaraderie. "I cannot teach you to alter your shape, but I can change your mind with magic, suppressing the part of you that craves sight and allowing your intuition to take over. To find your own primal nature and bring it forth."

     "In truth?" the excitement in my voice frightened me. 

     "Of course." pride flowed from the witch. "Although 'twill be quite uncomfortable. I feel I must warn you. Those who are not born to magic often suffer from its touch, no matter the intent of the user."

     "I know." I recalled Wynne's healing spells, how they burned, how they tore me apart even as they forced my body together. "I'll do anything, Morrigan. I cannot keep existing as a burden to everyone that I care about. I need...I need to be useful again."

     "While I completely disdain your altruistic reasoning, I find your drive intriguing. Take my hand, warden. We shall see how this suits you."

     I reached out, waiting for her to take my hand. I felt her fingers entwine with mine and an unfamiliar magic wrapping around my skin. I released my thoughts, reaching for Morrigan's magic in my mind, willing my intuition, my primal sense, to come to the forefront. 

     "Stop." a dark presence invaded all of my senses. 

     "You disappoint me, Salem." Morrigan sounded...hurt?

     "No, it's not that." I rose, hand on the hilt of my weapon, habit and instinct that would do me no good. "Not that at all."

     "Darkspawn!" I heard Alistair's voice from across the camp. "Darkspawn approaching!"


	4. Acts of Desperation

**Leliana**

     "Darkspawn!" Alistair's voice rang through the camp. "Darkspawn approaching!"

     _Maker's breath!_ I slung my quiver across my back and set the string in my bow. _Could we not have a few weeks of peace?_

     "Leliana, Morrigan, Wynne!" a stronger voice echoed, less given to panic. _Salem._ "Get to high ground; hold them off! Sten, Oghren, Shale, take the front! Alistair and Zevran, flank them!"

     I rushed to the campfire, watching Salem giving orders as though nothing had changed. Pride and grief mingled within me.

     "Alistair, where are they coming from?" Salem asked. "I can sense them but can't ascertain their direction."

     Alistair swallowed, clearly afraid. _This is the first time he will go into battle without Salem there beside him._

     "Mostly from the north. Two other groups from the east and west, small though, probably a couple of hurlocks or genlocks." he babbled. "Mostly the north, though. Mostly the north."

     "Can you handle the group to the west, circle back and attack the main group from behind?"

     "Of course." Zevran flashed a wicked smile. "Leave it to me." he dashed off and I sent my prayers with him.

     Alistair laid his hand on Salem's shoulder. "See you on the other side."

     "You might." she quipped, a half-smile on her face. "I won't."

     "They're getting closer." Oghren wiped whiskey from his moustaches. "Best ye magicky types be hittin' the high ground like the warden said."

     "Of course." Wynne took the lead, shepherding the flock.

_Like herding cats,_ I smiled. _That's what Salem said of leading us. Strange, but apt, Ferelden phrase._

     "On to the bloodshed then." Morrigan twirled her staff and fell in line behind Wynne.

     "Come, love." I took Salem's hand. "We should join them."

     Salem's sightless stare was fixed away from me, towards the north. Already I could see the shadowy figures approaching. "I should be fighting." her spirit collapsed inward.

     "Salem, please." I begged, afraid of what she might do. I was not strong enough to stop her if she insisted on joining the fray, save with an arrow, and I had damaged her enough already.

     "Lead on." she whispered.

     Grateful, I guided her to the hill where Morrigan and Wynne waited, hands glowing, staffs poised. I nocked an arrow and waited. Sweat trickled down my back.

     A bloodthirsty howl rang through the air and I knew the battle had begun.

     Salem smirked. "Good dog, Burrow."

     I could see the tension in her jaw, the hatred of her inability to join the fight, to protect the ones she loved. My heart warmed. _There are others of us who desire that same privilege._

     The fighting drew closer. Two genlock archers spread out from the main force and took aim. I lifted my bow and pulled back, loosing the string and firing. The arrow took the darkspawn in the chest, knocking it back, but doing no damage.

     _Bloody armor plates._

     "Morrigan, the archers!" I called as I nocked a second arrow.

     Dark, nebulous energy spun from the witch's staff. An archer keened with fury and pain as its skin caught fire. The other raised its crossbow as I took aim at it.

     _Strike true,_ I prayed as I loosed the shot. The darkspawn and I fired simultaneously. A line of ice whipped across my arm as the darkspawn's bolt grazed my skin.

     I bit back the pain. Such a minor injury could wait until after the battle.

     "Leliana!" Wynne yelled as she threw disorienting and damaging bolts of lightning. "Oghren!"

     I scanned the ground below for the dwarf, whose axe was locked against a hurlock's sword. Another darkspawn rushed Oghren; I stopped it with an arrow to the throat. The dwarf ducked under the blow, tripped the enemy, and cleaved the head from the body.

     He looked up, berserker's eyes ablaze. "Nice shootin', sister!"

     I smiled, sending an arrow into the hurlock behind him. Morrigan laughed and it chilled the air.

     "The drunken oaf would be twice dead if not for you." she grinned, malicious. "Good work, Leliana, saving the miscreants one at a time."

     _Shut up!_ my thoughts thundered.

     Salem's fist clenched. Blood trickled down my arm. Darkspawn bodies lay strewn about our camp in a macabre display. I shuddered, looking at the quick work we had made of our enemies.

     Salem came to my side. "Is the battle finished?" she asked, her calm belying her frustration.

     "For us t'would seem to be." Morrigan answered and I bristled.

     I had seen them at the campfire together, Morrigan sultry and flirtatious, Salem grim. Until she had smiled. Until something the witch had said ignited her sightless eyes.

     "Sten, Oghren, Shale," Salem called, "find Zevran and Alistair. I want everybody back in camp. Safe."

     The three rushed to aid our comrades and Salem sighed, looking much older than her years.

     "I believe the Chantry may have to reconsider its policy on the blind leading the blind." Wynne offered a motherly smile and affectionate tone. "Excellent work, Salem."

     My love remained silent. The words, meant to encourage and humor, had done nothing but pour vinegar into her wounds.

     I patted her shoulder and winced. Perhaps the bolt had done more damage than I thought.

     "Wynne, Morrigan," Salem lifted her hand to mine and kept it there, "please start disposing of the bodies."

     The mages left; we were alone. My arm began to tremble from being held in place.

     "What is wrong?" Salem asked. "Are you all right?"

     Her tone was still, like a slow moving river that disguised a swift current. I had to tell her the truth. "A genlock's bolt grazed my arm." she released my hand. "It's a minor wound." I hastened to say. "A few bandages and I'll be good as new. Salem," my words weren't reaching her. "Salem?"

     "I knew it." her throat was tight. "I knew this would happen."

     "Salem, I'm all right." I insisted. "Truly."

     " _I'm_ not." the calm broke. "I knew this day would come and it has. And it was _you_ who were injured. _That is unacceptable_."

     "Why?" _why are you so stubborn, so insistent on bleeding for us all?_ "Why is it so important that you are the only one who takes damage? Why do you have to shoulder all the burden?"

     "Because I love you!" she erupted. "Because I cannot stand knowing that you were hurt because of my inability to do anything!" she placed her hand against my cheek. It was trembling. "I'm so sorry, Leliana. I--I'm not in my right mind. I...I should go. Don't go near the bodies, Leli. I should remain the only one with tainted blood." her voice trailed away. "Get Wynne to see to your wounds."

     "Wound." I whispered after her. "Just one."

     My heart ached worse than my arm, but there was no one to speak to of it. I watched Salem walk, unsteady, down the hill...straight to Morrigan. Anger bubbled inside my chest.

     Every time, _every time_ , something happened between us, Salem went straight to the witch. It infuriated me. I strode down the hill as the others returned, ready to have it out with Salem and Morrigan both. I was tired of this.

     I glared at them, unable to hear their conversation. Salem extended her hand. Morrigan's hand, glowing with magic, grasped Salem's. My warden's eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed to the ground.

     My vision went white. I drew my dagger. Darkspawn were not the only things I would kill this day.


	5. The Primal Focus

**Salem**

     I stormed away from Leliana, furious. She had been hurt. _She. Had. Been. Hurt._ It did not matter that she said the would was superficial. It did not matter that the fight had been finished quickly. None of that mattered. All that did was the blood on my lover's skin. I knew, _I knew_ , that if I had been in that fight, the damn darkspawn archers would not even have gotten in range.

     _I promised to protect them,_ my inner voice scoffed. _So much for good intentions, words and promises cast into the wind. I succeed in protecting Leliana_ _from Marjolaine, only to fail her now. No more. No matter the cost, no matter the danger, I will **not** let this happen again._

     Slow, too slow, I picked my way across the terrain, listening for the sound of Morrigan's voice. Her words carried clear, complaining about the stench of the darkspawn. Somehow, I did not notice it. Perhaps it had something to do with my tainted blood. After all, according to Alistair, all wardens reached a point where they became more darkspawn than men. The Calling. A chill shot up my spine. Thirty years at best.

     _I did not ask for this_ , I sighed. _I wanted to grow old in Highever, to continue my family's legacy. Maker, why? Although everything that has happened here,_ I calmed myself, _has led me to Leliana. All thi_ _s pain endured for a small glimmer of joy. But such a joy. One that I will not lose to death._

     "Morrigan?" I called. The witch had gone silent.

     "Over here, blind one." she sounded perturbed, but that was nothing unusual. "Tell me," she asked, leading me closer with the sound of her voice, "why is the little songstress spared this odious detail? Is that one of the privilege of fucking our leader?"

     "Curb your tongue, witch." I ordered, in no mood for Morrigan's games. "You know the rules. Excepting me and Alistair, no one with an open wound touches the darkspawn. I am here to ask a favor of you; let us desist with the mutual trying of patiences."

     "Name your favor and I shall name my price." I could picture her arms crossed, her hip thrust out in defiance.

     "What we spoke of before the darkspawn attacked. Do it."

     "Really?" I measured her footsteps as she circled me like a predator.

     "Yes." my resolve deepened. "I won't be helpless again."

     "You mean," her lips were against my ear, "that you will not let anything touch your precious nightingale. Am I right?"

     "Do you envy Leliana?" I asked, knowing it would anger Morrigan.

     "Envy?" she backed away with a forced laugh. "No. How ludicrous. Pity, I do feel. But never envy, warden."

     _Pity? Pity because I am Leliana's lover? Or because she is mine?_ "You are treading water, Morrigan. Will you help me, or are you content to stand here insulting the woman I love?"

     "Love." another chuckle. "Such a pointless, inhibiting emotion. I'll help you, Salem. 'Tis but a small favor, after all. Give me your hand."

     I extended my hand to her and she grasped it. Magic crawled along the surface of my skin before clawing its way into my blood. Pain lanced between my temples and the world flashed white. 

* * *

     _Everything is blurred, distorted, hazed over with a glassy sheen. A wasteland stretches out before me, a vast, empty nothingness. **I'm...in the Fade.** I realized. **But somehow conscious? Cogent?**_

_I glance around, searching for Morrigan. She is nowhere to be seen. **How is consciousness in the Fade possible without a mage,**_ _I wonder_. _**Unless...this must be a lucid dream. Morrigan spoke of bringing forth the primal mind...the sentient one must dwell somewhere when it departs.**_

_"What have we here?" an unearthly toe, laced with smoke and silk and dreams. "A lone wanderer in an unfamiliar land?"_

_I turn; find myself face to face with an unholy beauty. Lavender and silver skin shines in the Fade's half-light. Violet eyes gleam like stars, so deep one could easily drown in their gaze. She wears no clothing but ornate, interlocking chains. I feel as though I can look upon her forever and be happy._

_"Who are you, far traveler?" she asks, threading her fingers in my hair. "Does one who has come from such distance remember the name they carry?"_

_"Salem." I manage to speak. "Salem Cousland."_

_"Ssssssalemmm." she purrs, and pleasant shivers spark across my body. "How very beautiful. Tell me, Salem, why have you come?"_

_**I...I don't remember.** "I..."_

_"Want to stay with me?" she places a finger beneath my chin, tilting her intoxicating eyes to mine. "Want to watch time float by with all your dreams of peace realized?"_

_**Watch...watch...I want...** "I want to see again." I whisper. _

_"If you stay with me, you need never worry about blindness again."_

_**Leliana.** "No. I have to go back. But I must be able to stand in battle."_

_She frowns. "I can return your sight to you, Salem. But you must give me something, something of equal value."_

_**Oh hell,** my mind clears, **I am conversing with a demon, and it wants to make a deal. I know for a fact that she can restore my sight. The Urn of Sacred Ashes may or may not exist. It is not a guarantee. If it should turn out to be nothing but a madman's rambling, then I am dead before the final battle...as are those I love. Was this your plan, M** **orrigan? To have me sign a demonic contract to heal my eyes? You were so sure, were you not? So certain that this would work? Bitch.**_

_"I do not deal with demons." I say, unable to entertain the idea further._

_I cannot bear the thought of my father and mother looking down at their daughter from the Beyond, watching me consort with a demon. And Leliana...she would never forgive me. I cannot live with myself if I betray her in this way._

_"Are you certain, Ssssssalemmm?" my name emerges on a hiss._

_"No." I answer, unable to deny that I long to take the sure and easy route. "But I remain firm. I will not take your offer."_

_Her countenance warps into a face of wrath. Gone is the beauty, the seduction, the all-encompassing pull of desire. "Then face what you truly fear, Salem Cousland. The last thing your waking eyes shall ever see."_

_With a flash, she vanishes, leaving the smell of charred flesh in the air and taking the wasteland with her. The desert warps and shifts, sand to stone, emptiness to the city of Denerim. I stand before the archdemon, who lies in a puddle of steaming, acidic blood. My swords rest in my hands, acid eating away at the steel. They are ruined. But the city is safe._

_I turn away, weary but triumphant. My friends stand with me, bloody, battered, but alive. All but one..._

_**Leliana.**_

_I face the archdemon again, searching for her. "Leli." the words emerge in a whisper. "Leliana!" the scream, absolute panic and confusion._

_I rush towards the archdemon, fear all but obliterating thought. Bodies lie all around, our allies and enemies. Hers is not among them._

_"Leliana!" I cry once again._

_"Salem?" a weak voice._

_Leliana rests against the archdemon's massive side, her eyes closed, pain stamped on her features. I run to her side, kneeling next to her. A darkspawn's arrow is embedded in her thigh. Blood drips from the arrowhead, puddling on the ground._

_"I," she pants, "I tried to make it to you. I can't...walk anymore."_

_"That's all right." I assure her, combing my fingers through her hair, frantic. "You're all right; we're all right. We're alive, Leli, we survived. Wynne! Wynne, we need you!"_

_"No use, love." Leliana whispers, moving her arm away from its protective position across her torso._

_Blood drains from my face as I see the three deep punctures to her abdomen._

_Tears flood my eyes as I realize she is right. Magic will not work fast enough. I'm...I am going to lose her._

_"Leliana, no." I beg. "Stay with me. Don't die. Please, dear heart, please stay with me."_

_Her eyes glaze over and look into a distance I cannot see. "Nothing would...give me...greater pleasure." she smiles and my heart breaks._

_Silent, Wynne comes alongside me. She lays a hand on my shoulder and kneels beside me. She extends her other hand to Leliana, pushing magic into my bard's broken body. I look at the senior enchanter, daring to hope._

_"Wynne..."_

_"I've taken away her pain." the healer answers. "I'm sorry, Salem."_

_I turn to my beautiful songstress; watch her eyes close. "I love you, Leliana. With all my heart. Never forget that."_

_"Will...love you...always." her chest falls. It will not rise again._

_"Leliana!" my grief-stricken cry echoes across the rooftops of Denerim. "Please, Maker, let this be a dream. Do not let this be real! Give her back to me!"_

_I turn my face away, unable to look at her lifeless form any longer. **I will go the Deep Roads,** I resolve. **Damn this world. The Blight is over, the war is ended. Why should I continue fighting for a world without her?**_

_"Give her back to me." I beg again, longing to take her in my arms, press her lips to mine, savor a life where I am free to be with her. **How can this be? How am I here, at the end of days, victorious and yet defeated?** I close my eyes and the world darkens._

_In the darkness I am surrounded by pain, anguish, a wrath that has no beginning and no end for it is eternal. Ragged agony tears at my veins from the inside, shredding me apart until all rationality is forfeit and I become a beast with nothing but rage locked inside of me. Nothing but feral desire. Nothing but the primal **need** to save Leliana. _

_I open my eyes and see the light of the dying sun in the distance. Something seems...wrong. When I had closed my eyes...the world had darkened. But I am blind. The primal mind knows this, realizes this, knows that sight is an illusion, that all of this is an illusion and that somewhere, beyond the haze of the dream, lies the reality and the flesh and the living, not the dead._

_I lift a darkspawn's blade from the ground, turn, and plunge it into Leliana's body. She convulses and screams, changing, morphing into the demonic beauty that had greeted me._

_"This will not be the last thing I see." I vow, pressing the sword deeper. "If I remain blind for eternity, I will **never** witness this! I will bring down any number of gods and demons in my resolve! Now," I twist the blade with all my strength, savoring the demon's shrieks, drinking them in to slake the thirst of my unending, ferociously primal urge. To destroy all that which would endanger the one I love. "Burn in the Abyss!"_

_The creature writhes on the ground, then stops, twitches...dies. My vision fades and I swim back to the waking world._

* * *

     "Harlot witch!" an Orlesian accent, drenched with fury. "I'll _kill_ _you_!"

 


	6. Stripping Armor

**Leliana**

     I rushed to Salem, sliding to my knees beside her. She breathed even, but her eyes worked frantically beneath their lids, seeing everything and nothing.

     "Salem?" I asked, heedless of the gore spattered on the ground and the blood sheeting down my arm.

     Wynne knelt beside me, calm and poised. The healer examined Salem and frowned. "It is as though she sleeps." Wynne's eyes cut at Morrigan. "But I would be right in my assumption that this is no natural slumber, would I not?"

     Morrigan's amber eyes leered down at us. "'Tis true."

     I rose to my feet and throttled the witch, grasping her rags and pulling her towards me. "What have you done to her?" I demanded.

     "Hands off, songstress." a gentle push of magic knocked me back. Morrigan brushed her arms off and straightened her robes. "I did only as she wanted."

     "And what was that?" Wynne interrupted before I could speak. 

     "I sent her to find what she most desires." Morrigan answered Wynne, but wisely kept her eyes on me. "You know as well as I where dreams are born and sought, senior enchanter. Or do I overestimate your knowledge?"

     Wynne's mouth set in a firm line. "I know very well."

     The answer fell into place and my blood boiled. "You sent her into the _Fade?_ " I seethed, keeping a tight grip on my daggers. "And you left her there _alone?_ How dare you, you wretched, bitch-born whore!"

     Morrigan rolled her eyes. "You'll find, songstress, that I am no Orlesian noble, easily set to fire by feckless insults. In fact, instead of attempting to coax out my inner demons, turn those critical eyes inward. Ask yourself, what personal deficit do you possess that Salem first turns to others for aid instead of you? Do not tell me that lovesick light is gone from her eyes."

     _You know very well that there is nothing in her eyes. Not anymore. Not ever again unless the Urn of Sacred Ashes proves true._

     "That is cold, Morrigan." I kept my voice low, aware of the others gathering around us. "Almost as cold as sending one you claim as your friend alone, unguarded, into the Fade."

     "Says the self-righteous bard who dragged her beloved warden into the spider's web. Tell me, Leliana, how did it feel when Salem took the poisoned bite and had not the heart to tell you?"

     Her words flamed against my ears and I felt my heart go cold. "At least I had the courage to face my demons!" I bit back. "A spider's web is far less dangerous than a dragon's maw. How did it feel, playing puppet's master as you sent Salem to face your mother? You, all of you, have done nothing but use her for your own ends!"

     Morrigan's eyes flared and her hand curled, magic dancing between her fingertips. Wynne and Alistair stepped between us.

     "Take it back." the future king urged me. "Just...take it back."

     "Have you lost your _mind?!_ " I shouted, ready to flay them all alive. "You especially, Alistair. Duncan is killed and you find yourself at loose ends?! You handily shoved all of your responsibilities and burdens onto your _junior's_ shoulders! How well do you believe your mentor would think of you, were he alive to witness your cowardice!?"

     Alistair blushed red; even his ears were scarlet with fury and shame. "You little...I have been with her since the _beginning_..."

     "Following like a lost, whining puppy." I cut into him, vicious. "You stay only because you have nowhere else left to you."

     Morrigan laughed behind her hand. "Well that, at least, is true."

     "This is madness." Wynne's voice carried over the argument. "The fate of Ferelden and Thedas is at stake and you stand here flinging accusations like schoolchildren."

     _Self-righteous, half-abomination mage!_

     "The world's fate did not rest so heavily on your mind when Salem came to your tower. 'Save the mages,' you begged, knowing that in her nobility and strength she would attempt or die trying. Only after you threw her into hell at your behest did you again consider Ferelden's needs. At least you have the honor to pay your debts," I glared at Morrigan, "unlike some."

     "Oh, someone sew her lips shut." Morrigan groaned. "Salem owed me her life before the two of you crossed paths. The ruination of Flemeth was simply the payment of a debt. And, after your merry little foray to death's door, I do believe your warden yet again owes me her life. I propose a banishment. 'Tis a friend's duty, after all, to remove those who would do the most harm."

     "And what," I spat the words, "do you mean by that?"

     "At least we were honest in our requests and cowardice." her lips curved in a malicious smile. "Such pure wool you wore, Leliana, dressed in the garb of the faultless, flawless Chantry, hiding your assassin's calluses in Andraste's herb gardens. No other of us so readily stepped in to resolve a crisis, then spoke in gilded tones of a vision from a long-dead god. What better way to give hope to the burdened, wounded warrior than to convince them that their Maker takes their side. And then, to seduce, tempt with promises of love; only to, at the end of it all, when pressed, admit you are a thief, a liar, and a whore. None of us here committed so grave an atrocity against _your_ warden. Have we, Leliana?"

     I shoved past Wynne and Alistair, straight to Morrigan. Without thinking, I rammed my fist against her jaw, savoring the sight as she cursed and staggered back.

     "Decry me all you like." I growled. "Mock my vision, slander my name, torture and break me until I speak your version of the truth. All those things I can abide. But never, _never_ question the truth of my love for Salem."

     Morrigan rubbed her jaw, wincing. "Are we done playing with words then?" I nodded and she smiled. "Excellent. This is much more to my taste."

     She struck out quickly, lightning spilling from her fingers. I rolled beneath the reach of the spell, striking at the back of Morrigan's knees. The witch collapsed and I lept to my feet. I moved behind her and gouged my fingernails into the sensitive pressure points behind her ears. Morrigan's eyes widened, but no sound crossed her lips. Her fingers wrapped around my leg and cold seeped through my armor to my skin. Before she could finish her spell, I dropped to my knees and struck her in the back, directly over a vital organ.

     Morrigan doubled over and a hoarse cry ripped from her throat. In seconds, I had a dagger to her neck. Alistair took a step forward, but Wynne intervened. From far away, I heard Oghren mutter a complaint about the lack of nudity.

     I pulled the witch against my body, pressing the blade deep enough to draw blood.

     "'Twould seem we are at an impasse." Morrigan chuckled. "You won't kill me, Leliana."

     "A fortnight ago I plunged this same blade into my lover's heart." I whispered in her ear. "And _that_ is the least of my sins. Give me one reason that you should be spared."

     "I haven't one."

     A wave of magic rippled from her, flinging the knife from my hand and throwing me back. I landed against a darkspawn corpse, feeling something sharp impale my thigh.

     _Shit!_

     If there were any darkspawn blood on whatever was stuck in my flesh, Morrigan had killed me.

     "I found a reason, songstress." Morrigan drawled, taunting me. "Were I to die, who would Salem come to should she need aid?"

     "Harlot witch!" furious, I pulled another blade and got to my feet, rushing her. "I'll kill you!"

     A cold hand iced around my wrist as I readied a strike. Morrigan's staff came down, stopped from impact by a similar, bone-bruising grip.

     "What," the most frigid tone I had ever heard, "in _hell_ , is this!?"

     I dropped the knife, suddenly afraid and ashamed. Salem's sightless eyes burned into me, fierce and unforgiving. "Have you lost your minds?" she asked, turning to Morrigan. "Were you so energized from battling darkspawn that you decided to spill each other's blood?"

     "Ask your _lover_." Morrigan lifted her chin, defiant. "'Twas she that began the argument."

     Salem scoffed. "I doubt that blame rests entirely on one head." she relinquished my wrist and I massaged it, knowing that it would be bruised tomorrow. "Leliana, have Wynne see to you." she ordered, a commander's voice, not the tone of the woman I loved. "Morrigan," Salem turned her attention to the witch, "are you hurt?"

     "Bruised pride and skin." she answered. "But I see what you've found what you've sought."

     "Not the time." Salem flung the witch's staff away. "I smell your blood. Get back to your tent and tend to yourself. The rest of you," the others flinched at her tone, "get these damn corpses out of our camp!"

     She knelt beside a hurlock, lifted it over her shoulder, and strode away from the camp. The others rushed to follow suit. I simply stood there, watching my lover fade into the darkness.

     "Salem." I did not realize I had extended my hand out to her until Wynne took it in her own.

     "Come, child," she said, calm. "I am certain she will come back to you."

     "Wynne," I felt defeated, in body and spirit, "please forgive me. My words were hasty and harsh. I did not mean what I said."

     "Yes, you did." she answered, smiling. "And you have given me much to consider. I bear you no anger, Leliana. Now come with me. Your wounds need looking after." she chuckled. "Salem will flay us both if you remain untreated when she returns."

     _I fear her return._ I wordlessly followed the healer to her tent. _I have never seen Salem's eyes so full of wrath or heard her voice so cold. There were_ _times I feared Marjolaine but..._ I held my throbbing wrist against my chest... _what I felt from Salem...stru_ _ck terror in my heart._


	7. Lies Told to Comfort

**Salem**

     The scent of charred flesh filled the air and I smiled. I loathed the darkspawn. Everything about them had stained my life. _How is it we still suffer,_ I wondered, _from the arrogance of those Ages past? If there is a Maker, why can we find no grace? I swear, all races would enslave themselves for the_ _faintest glimmer of hope that somewhere, we are watched over by one with greater power than we possess._

     Leather creaked and hesitant steps approached. _Alistair._

     "What do you want?" I asked, brusque.

     Truth be told, I held nothing but fury in my heart against my companions at the moment. I vanished for one instant, plunged into nightmares beyond the mind's conception, only to find those I cared for at each other's throats upon my return.

     "You're still angry." Alistair began to retreat.

     I heaved a sigh and forced my rage into the back of my mind. I would only sow more discontent among them were I to remain wrathful. "That changes nothing. What do you need?"

     "Just...well...er..." he cleared his throat. "Did I...did I forsake my duty, Salem? Did I just shove everything onto your shoulders and follow behind you?"

     _Of course you did. You said as much in Lothering._ "Who put those thoughts in your head, Alistair?"

     "L...Leliana." he mumbled. "We all had a hell of an argument. You stopped it before it got any worse, thank the Maker."

     _Leliana? That does not sound like you at all. What have I walked into?_ "I'll speak to her. Put it out of your mind, Alistair."

     "Are you certain?" he asked. "I feel I have...failed you somehow. Failed Duncan and the wardens and Arl Eamon. I do not like this guilt, Salem. I have failed many people in my lifetime. To feel I have done so when it can be least afforded...I do not know if I can bear it."

     "Do not let your own mind weaken you." I cautioned, feeling my heart ache with suppressed emotion. I longed to surrender, to give into the darker voices that wanted to lash out, scream that it had been too much too soon...that I was not ready. "We cannot afford to let doubt linger, lest it become a cancer and devour us all."

     "Still...I feel as though I should apologize." he said, low, awkward with emotion.

     _There is so much to forgive._ "There is nothing to forgive." I laid my hand on his shoulder. "Do not think on it any longer."

     "As you will." briefly, he touched my hand. "You should...get back to camp."

     "Of course. Keep a eye on the fire, will you? Too many of them have run rampant."

     _And it falls to me to extinguish them._

     "Do not be too hard on them, Salem." Alistair urged. "Whatever happened today  has been a long time coming."

     "I know."

     I walked back to camp with a heavy heart. _Who must I be in this moment? All I want to do is take Leliana in my arms and hold her. Even if what I saw was a vision conjured by the Fade, it felt real. Watching her die...no. I cannot be soft-hearted. I must speak with her as a leader, not as a lover. And yet...what she said to Alistair was truth. How...this is beyond cruel._

     I followed the stringent scent of elfroot to Wynne's tent. Morrigan's theory had proven true. My senses were heightened, my mind clear at last. Even though I could not see, I could walk unguided now in the waking world. I had stopped Leliana's dagger and Morrigan's staff without sight. I could not, however, celebrate this gift. No. I had to slog through a swamp of convoluted emotion and try to sort out the madness.

     I tapped lightly on Wynne's tent flap. "Enter." the senior enchanter called.

     I swept the flap aside and entered the tent. I could hear but one other's breath besides mine. We were alone.

     "Where is Leliana?" I asked.

     "She returned to your tent after I finished tending her wounds." Wynne's voice was clipped.

     "Maker's breath, not you as well." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What happened, Wynne? Is Leliana all right?"

     The mage prioritized my inquiries. "Her arm was merely grazed. And her thigh was cut on the spine of a darkspawn's armor during her fight with Morrigan."

     Panic gripped me. "What!? Is she..." I could not finish the question.

     The key to the secrets of the Joining was locked away with the wardens who would not come to our aid. If anyone was infected with the taint, we had no hope for them but a merciful death. I could not fathom losing Leliana to such a cruel fate.

     "I am no warden, Salem." Wynne's voice changed, gentling. "I have no way of knowing, should the worst have come to pass."

     "Fine...fine." again, I placed a fierce rein on my emotions. "Then tell me what happened."

     "A chain reaction of pent up emotions." the healer replied. "Leliana saw you fall when Morrigan sent you into the Fade. It began an argument that quickly spiraled out of control. Things...truths were said that cut many of us to the bone. The bard is eerily perceptive, Salem."

     "So Alistair has told me." I sighed. "We had an...uncomfortable discussion."

     "Well, I can imagine what he said to you." Wynne sighed. "What did you say in return?"

     "To put those thoughts from his mind." I assured her. "Despite their truth."

     "All things work to their own ends, Salem. Fate treated you cruelly, but it gave Ferelden someone who can save her. From one of her most honorable houses no less."

     "Alistair is Maric's son." I frowned. "Is there a nobler house in Ferelden than that of her king?"

     "Do not think that my time cloistered in the tower has dimmed my knowledge of the world beyond it." Wynne chided. "Cousland honor existed long before Ferelden's monarchy. Even when this land belonged to Orlais, your family was respected and sought out in difficult times. The legacy continues with you."

     "Damn honor." I cursed. "Look where it's gotten me. Blinded and helpless against the forces of the abyss."

     "You seem less helpless than before." I could hear Wynne's canny smile.

     "You can thank the demons for that." I scoffed.

     "Salem, you _didn't_!" Wynne exclaimed. She grasped me about the shoulders and shook me. "How could you!?"

     I pursed my lips. "Wynne, look into my eyes." She drew away and I could feel the heat of her gaze on me. "What do you see?"

     "Nothing." the senior enchanter calmed. "You are as you were."

     "I do not truck with demons." I spat. "No matter the sweetness of their temptations. Or the horror of their vengeance."

     "I should have known." Wynne apologized. "Forgive me, Salem."

     "It is no matter." I shrugged off the sting of the retracted accusation. "You're certain Leliana is all right?"

     "Her wounds will heal." Wynne assured me. "Be gentle with her, warden. She...we all saw a different face of you this evening, but I believe she was most affected."

     "From all accounts, Leliana began this mess." I ran my hand through my hair. "But she was only reacting to my decisions. So, in all actuality, I should bear the blame."

     "Leliana was not the sole aggressor." Wynne said. "One needs flint and stone both to conjure flame. The bard could easily have calmed if Morrigan had not goaded her."

     "That is easily believed. But I can no more chain Morrigan's tongue than I could harness the stars."

     "I would think that harnessing the stars would be an easier task. Go to Leliana, Salem. You are worried; I can tell."

     "Thank you for looking after her, Wynne." I said.

     "I am only sorry that I did not have the ability to stop what transpired."

     "You needn't worry about that."  I told her, shouldering yet another burden.

     I left her tent and walked toward my own, absently petting Burrow as he trotted alongside me. "Who must I be, boy?" I wondered yet again.

     _Lover or commander? Gentle or absolute? There are so many faces I must show to so many. But, dear Maker...what if her blood has been tainted..._


	8. A Terrifying Love

**Leliana**

     I rose and began pacing, ignoring the twinges of pain from my thigh and Wynne's order not to move excessively. I could not stop the questions thundering through my mind. 

     _What did Salem see in the Fade that made her return so...cold? Am I breathing on borrowed time? Wynne could not tell me and I hesitate to ask Alistair, but I am more afraid to inquire of Salem. She could never forgive me if, in a pointless argument, I condemned myself to death. She has been so careful of all of us, making certain that none of us encountered darkspawn blood. Damn it! I have caused nothing but trouble, yet again._

     The tent flap opened and I froze. Salem entered, looking grim. "You shouldn't be standing." her voice was tight, carefully controlled.

     I shuddered. "How," I asked the first question that came to mind, "did you know?"

     "Sit down, Leliana." Salem ignored my question and pinched the bridge of her nose.

     I obeyed, mute, fearful. I did not know where I stood with this Salem. She acted aloof, distant, far from the warm and caring woman I had come to love. Even in the night's warmth, I shivered.

     Tension gathered in the air and thickened until I could barely breathe. Salem stood over me, sightless eyes unreadable.

     "I'm sorry." she broke the silence at last, with words that frightened me more than a torrent of wrath.

     "What?" I asked, incredulous.

     "I acted without consulting you and put you in a situation that was compromising at best. For that, I apologize."

     "No." I felt my own anger. I got to my feet, wincing as my leg protested. "Not this time, Salem. I will not have it. I cannot stand how you manage to levy all blame on yourself. It disgusts, angers, and hurts me."

     "I hope your blades haven't dulled due to the excessive use of the whetstone on your _tongue_." Salem quipped. "You've certainly been slicing through morale and burrowing into people's minds, spreading doubt and animosity."

     There was no heat in her tone as she spoke, no emotion. One thing I had never been able to conceal was how I felt. Marjolaine had consistently chided me about my inability to feign coldness. I could not detach from any situation...it was a wonder that I had remained alive this long.

     "While that is true," I said, uncertain whether to antagonize or assuage her, "it was not my intention to cause harm. I was _terrified_ , Salem. Morrigan sent you into the _Fade_. I had no idea of knowing if you were even coming back."

     "Forgive me if I _disgust_ you, Leliana, but that was the reason for my apology." Salem turned away from me. "I did what was necessary, dear heart. Can you not just apologize to the others tomorrow and put this behind us?"

     "No!" I shouted, uncaring if the entire camp heard. "I meant what I said and they needed to hear it!"

     "Because I need Alistair sniveling and doubting himself? Because my own swords aren't weak enough, I need another warrior questioning his efficacy in the field? Because I need a feral witch flinging the woman I love against a bloody darkspawn corpse!"

     There was her heat, her anger, her emotion. I had broken through the veneer of ice and reached the woman within. "I cannot help that your pet has the manners of a rabid dog!" I snapped.

     "Pet?" the anger left her voice. "What are you talking about, Leliana?"

     "Morrigan." my voice dripped venom. "Every time you need something, you knock at her door. When you were wounded, you went to her! And had she not, in a rare moment of humanity, told me of your injuries, I would have lost you and known _nothing!_ That would have _killed_ me, Salem!"

     "Morrigan helped save my life." she reminded me, angering me yet more.

     "Yes, Salem, defend her again! Defend her because she had the courage to thrust the blade that saved your life against your heart..."

     "No, she did not." Salem cut off my words. "Do not think that I hold her in such high esteem. Morrigan uses me as I use her, a means to an end."

     "But you admit that you let yourself be used!" I exclaimed. "Even..." my voice cracked, "...even by me. I would ask you when you will let this vicious cycle kill you but it _already has!_ "

     "And if my death frightened me I would cede this argument to you at once." she strode forward and wrapped me in a fierce embrace. "When Morrigan sent me into the Fade, I had a vision...I watched you die, your eyes close, your breath cease. Had I not realized it for a dream I would have lost myself entirely. Losing you is my _one_ fear, Leliana. If I knew that it would keep you alive at the end of this road, I would forsake every dream I possess. I would even let Rendon Howe live out his days in peace. I care for all of you, deeply. But I love _you._ I trust _you_. I need _you_."

     My anger faded as I heard the desperation in her voice. Tears pricked my eyes, but I hesitated to let them fall. Passionate declarations of love and devotion had undone me before. I had grown too wary to let that happen again.

     "Why, love?" I left my voice soften, at least. "Why did you put yourself through that torture?"

     "For myself." she gave the answer I had prayed she would. "Morrigan spoke of separating the primal mind from the rational one. What I saw...cemented the truth of myself. I must be able to protect those that I love."

     "But why?" I asked the question that I had never received a satisfying answer to. "Why is it only your blood that you let be spilled without thought?"

     Salem pulled out of the embrace and her lips curved in a smile filled with sorrow. "As my father once said, 'A Cousland builds his house with his own hands. If it stands, it is his pride. If it falls, it is his demise'."

     "I...I do not understand."

     "This quest is my duty." Salem explained, gentle, warming, transforming back into the only one who could break my heart. "If I fail, it should be me alone that suffers. No one else. I will not lose a single one of you to the Blight, Leliana. Not even Morrigan. That is the reason for every secret; the drive behind every action. I will build my house, dear heart. And it will stand."

     _But I, in my foolishness and haste, nearly destroyed that foundation,_ I thought, letting my tears fall. "Forgive me, Salem." I whispered. "I will speak to the others tomorrow and apologize. I did not mean to cause any of this."

     I moved towards her and my injured leg caved. As I stumbled, I felt Salem's arm wrap around me and ease me to the ground. "Leli?" her hand stroked through my hair and rested on my forhead. "Are you all right?"

     "Fine." I assured her, new fears creeping into my mind. "Salem, am I..." I could not finish the question, but she understood.

     I guided her hand to the wound in my thigh and bit my lip as she waited...waited for my blood to speak to her in the ink-dark tone that spawned her nightmares. _Please, dear Maker, grant me this one request. Do not let my foolishness bring about her greatest fear._

     "You...are not. she whispered, and the breath I had been holding rushed out.

     _Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._

     Salem seized my face between her hands and forced my eyes to hers, even though she could see nothing. "Never," her voice thickened, "frighten me like that again. I beg you, Leliana, never again."

     "Salem..."

     She cut my words off in a crushing kiss. I trembled as she poured wordless emotion into me; fear, remorse, anger, terror, and fierce, fierce love. I gave back, silently imparting a promise that I would never leave her, that the house she had fought to build would stand, and that there, someday, in peace, together we would dwell.

     Salem broke the kiss and I nearly wept at the loss of her touch. It had been too long, too long since she had shared with me her soul, her heart, her body.

     "Please, love." the words were no more than a breath, a desperate plea for her, and her alone.

     "But..."

     "You are whole." I gave her the same words she had given me that first night she had seen the scars that marred my body. "And I love you."

     She smiled. Her lips caught mine once more, radiating strength and primal fire. Gentle, hesitant hands reached out, tugging at the laces of my shirt.

     "I love you, too," she whispered, "my Leliana."


	9. Approaching Haven

**Salem**

     As a whole, the group stopped. "What is it?" I asked, reaching for my swords.

     "The road has widened." Leliana, my surrogate eyes, explained. "There is a village up ahead."

     "Is it Haven?" I wondered, hoping it to be true.

     Genitivi's research had led us to that name, and nothing more. A rough map had been made out of several clues that led us to what the others described as "rather unremarkable landmarks." Much care had been taken to hide this village's location. It worried me.

     "According to the maps," Zevran's thick, Antivan accent entered my ears, "this is the place. But it doesn't make sense. Looks like a normal village below the mountains to me."

     "And you look like an elven whore to most." Morrigan teased. "I'm certain few would suspect that your blades are sharper and more skilled than your tongue."

     "Ah, yes." Zevran took her words as a compliment. "Women and men both have fallen prey to their foolish assumptions. What can I say, I am an excellent chameleon."

     "And a humble one, at that." Wynne had a smile behind her voice.

     I smiled as well, grateful that everything had smoothed over. The first few days after the argument had been tentative, on the verge of falling to shards again, but each one overcame themselves and we were back to our impromptu, merry band.

     "Proceed with caution." I advised, remembering the attack at Gentivi's home, and the fake assistant that someone had set in place. Someone who wanted no one to discover the location of this village, and the secrets it potentially held.

     We strode forward and I stopped, hand going to my side. I felt a chill in the air and the numbness of my skin. All was not well within this village.

     "Salem," Leliana's arm slipped around me in support, "are you all right? You've gone pale."

     _I cannot feel my side. It feels like my lungs won't hold air._ "Something is amiss." I whispered. "I want a small group to go through the gates. The few of us who won't attract suspicion."

     "Very well." Leliana sounded hesitant. While it was safer to go in numbers, I sensed that our motley group would not be well received. Not here. "What do you want us to do, love?"

     "Leliana, dress in your Chantry robes." I bade her, turning to face the others, even though I could not see them. "Wynne, you, Leliana, and I will enter the village by the main road. You will pose as Chantry sisters guiding a blind templar to seek healing. Alistair and Zevran, I want you to scout the village from the left, Sten and Morrigan from the right. Oghren, stay with Shale and keep behind all three of us. If you sense trouble, or if this does not go as planned, join the battle."

     "I don't like the idea of leaving you." Alistair spoke up while chatter rose among the others. "This place feels off. Not darkspawn off, but, you know."

     "That's why I need you to get a complete layout of the village. We'll meet up later." I held my hand to my side again, gouging my nails into my flesh to try to feel...nothing.

     _Why now...of all the times for this to happen._

     It had been occurring more often, with greater intensity each time. Still, I refused to inquire of Wynne what it might be. _Who knows what Marjolaine might have done?_ I thought. _She was a bard of great skill, why use one poison when they can be layered? Maker's breath, I'm probably still dying...just more slowly._

     "Salem," Leliana rejoined me, "Wynne and I are prepared. Are you ready to put on your armor?"

     "I will not be wearing any." I waited for the arguments.

     "Salem, this is most unwise." Wynne's voice joined the conversation. "As you say, we do not know what we will be facing. You need as much protection as possible."

     "And anonymity will buy me that." I replied, keeping my tone even, ignoring the cold wash of numbness through my veins. "The fact that I am wearing my swords will give us enough unwanted attention."

     Wynne's footsteps faded away and Leliana rested her hand on my shoulder. "Are you certain, love?"

     "That was my final word." I wrapped my arm around her. "Let's go."

     The three of us approached what I assumed were the gates of the village, Wynne on one side, Leliana on the other. Each of them held one hand and I stilted my steps, retreating fully into my blindness.

     "Halt." a harsh voice called. "Who goes there?"

     "Two sisters of the Chantry, seeking aid." Leliana answered, her accent smooth and covered with charm. I fought down a smile as I listened to my lover do what she knew best.

     "What's your business in Haven?" another query.

     At least now we knew we had come to the right place. However, I could not help but sense that something was very wrong. In most small villages, representatives of the Chantry were greeted with great hospitality and open arms. But the guard's tone still held suspicion.

     "We were told you had a house of healing here." Leliana continued, letting Wynne play a silent partner. "We were aiding a plagued caravan and our templar escort fell prey to the illness. Her eyesight is gone."

     The clanking of metal as the guard moved, towards us. _Plate armor?_ I recognized the sound. _What kind of small village in the middle of the Frostbacks can afford plate armor? Or feel they have a need for it?_

     "Blind, is she?" he asked. I sensed his hand waving in front of my face, waiting to see if I would break the charade.

     "Yes, kind sir." Leliana entreated with her voice. "Please, do let us enter. She is still very weak, and we are exhausted from the journey."

     He grunted. "Get in, find the healer, and get out. You've no reason to linger, so see to it you don't."

     "Thank you for your kindness." Leliana finished the play and we entered the village, tense with what we had discovered.

     "They do not want anyone here." Wynne whispered. "We could have come as traders with the finest luxuries from across Thedas and we would have been turned away."

     "You're right at that." I answered, feeling my unease deepen and settle in the pit of my stomach. "I don't hear anything."

     "That is because there is nothing to hear." Leliana answered. "The streets are empty; there aren't even dogs or chickens or...anything."

     "The birds are also silent." Wynne mused. "I could swear I heard them on the road."

     "Well, if no one is here, then no one is watching." I ventured. "We should investigate. It's possible that Genitivi, if he still lives, is being held captive somewhere in this village."

     "There's a large house to the left." Leliana gripped my hand tighter. "Larger than the others that I see here. The village headman perhaps?"

     "We shall see."

     Leliana started off and I followed the sound of her footsteps, giving up the ruse of helplessness I had portrayed before the guard. Haven might try to hide her mysteries, but I would seek them out, at sword point if need be.


	10. The Horrors of Haven

**Leliana**

     Salem's hand strayed to her side as we approached the house. I frowned. _She is hiding something from me, and it is not pain. I know this place disturbs her, as it does me, but she is concealing something. One would think,_ a surge of frustration,  _that after the incident with Marjolaine, Salem would realize her pride can be a detriment._

     "Leliana," my love's voice jarred me from my thoughts, "are there any traps?"

     _Focus,_ I told myself. If I became too pre-occupied with Salem's well-being, she or I could wind up being hurt. I checked the seam of the door and the boards beneath our feet. Nothing. I tested the door and turned back to Salem, shocked.

     "It is not locked." I said.

     "Strange." she commented. "Haven must suffer a great deal of theft, security being so lax and commerce so great."

     Wynne pursed her lips while I stifled a giggle. It had taken me a while to understand Salem's humor. Marjolaine's had been cutting, at another's expense, or a cruel, harsh, wittily delivered barb. Salem's humor had been a challenge, dark, dry, and deadpan. But she never mocked another in jest, only herself. It was an endearing, if difficult to understand, trait.

     I edged the door open, blade at the ready. To my surprise, the heart was deserted. "It's safe." I whispered.

     Salem edged past me, surprising me as her hand trailed lovingly down my arm. Unbidden, I smiled. Salem's affection was freely given, and shown at the strangest times. A wink in the midst of fighting, a kiss when I was drenched in sweat and blood...a caress as we infiltrated a place filled with potential danger.

     _Dear Maker, how I love her._

     "Gods, heavens, and hells!" Salem backed against the wall, hand covering her mouth and nose. Alarm fired through me.

     _Noxious gas?_ I wondered. _Not poison, not again._

     I dashed into the room and the stench stole my breath. _Not a trap,_ I realized, _but the smell of death._

     Wynne eased the door shut, concealing our infiltration.

     "What in the Maker's name is causing this?" Salem asked. "It smells like blood."

     I glanced around the room...gasped. An altar stood against the wall, soaked with blood. Scarlet smeared the wall, layer upon layer of death. Fresh blood dripped from it and pooled on the floor.

     "An altar to the god of death." Wynne told her. "This is not even for blood magic." she sounded appalled by the thought. "This is just...human sacrifice."

     "We..." I did not want to believe, "...we do not know that they were human."

     "They were." Salem's voice sounded like winter itself. "There is no questioning the origin of that blood. What in hell have we stumbled into?"

     "Salem, we are not safe here." Wynne continued. "We should leave. We should regroup."

     "We don't have time." Salem began coughing in the putrid air.

     I grasped her arm and eased her out of the door. We drank in the crisp air of the Frostback mountains. I rubbed Salem's back until the coughing eased, flashing back to the horrible vision of blood on her lips.

     "Are you all right?" Wynne solicited. 

     "Fine." Salem caught her breath and stopped leaning against the wall. 

      _No you are not. But I cannot press the issue here. Not when order must be maintained._

     "Salem, you are frightfully pale." Morrigan appeared out of nowhere, Sten an ominous presence at her back. "Although the mountain snow is fierce competition."

     "Did you find anything?" Salem had no time for Morrigan's barbs.

     "A shopkeeper, rude as I have ever met." the witch drawled. "He very nearly refused to show us his goods, even when I offered him mine."

     "Well at least he has good taste." I snapped. Tension had evened out between the rest of my comrades, but Morrigan and I were...placidly at odds.

     "The man mentioned the disapproval of foreigners by a Father Eirik of the Chantry." Sten surprised us by speaking. "Has this any resonance with you, lay sister?" the qunari addressed me.

     The Chantry has no fathers." I mused. "Men are not allowed as spiritual leaders. Andraste believed that all men secretly crave power and dominance. What better way to cater to their whims than by giving them the ability to speak for the Maker?"

     "Your foolish histories mean nothing to me." Sten growled.

     "They mean something to _me_." Salem snarled. "It might explain why we found a room for blood _fucking_ sacrifice."

     Morrigan waved a dismissive had. "Blood magic is nothing we have not faced before."

     "It was not used for blood magic." Wynne informed the others. She shook her head and covered her mouth, clearly traumatized by what we had seen.

     "No?" the witch's eyes flared. "Well, that is curious."

     "I say we pay Father Eirik a visit." Salem suggested. "I want to grab this town's filthy neck and wring it."

     _Righteous anger,_ I smiled, feeling my face flush, _looks very good on her. Focus, Leliana!_

     "I think we should wait for the others." Wynne cautioned. "These people are monsters."

     "There might be magic at work here." Morrigan offered. "Even if it is not blood magic."

     "Magic or no, this is _wrong_." Salem insisted.

     " _Invaders!_ " the cry rang from across the road.

     Salem pulled her swords in a fluid movement. "Who?" she asked.

     "City guard." I answered, and my heart caught in my throat. "And...townsfolk."

     "They have weapons!" Morrigan exclaimed, not understanding how I could differentiate between the townspeople and the guards if both were armed.

     "Kill them all." Salem ordered. "No mercy and no quarter."

     She stepped off of the porch, not waiting for the enemy to come to her.

     _Maker, protect her._ I prayed, drawing my off-hand blade.

     "It was a mere matter of time." Wynne consoled me, seeing the hesitation in my eyes. "She is only trying to protect us."

     Salem's swords were locked against a soldier's axe. "As we must protect her." I steeled myself. "Wynne, watch for archers."

     I stepped off the porch, stopped by a wild-eyed man with nothing but sewing shears in hand. One upward slash and he fell, trying desperately to hold in his intestines.

     _I need my bow_. I ducked under the thrust of a pitchfork and rolled in, severing the woman's hamstrings. Metal clanked and I looked into the face of the guard who had allowed us entry. I lay still; the tip of his spear resting against my heart.

     "She's not blind." he hissed and I closed my eyes, waiting for the world to go dark.

     Sickening crunch of metal through flesh. Breathing ceased.

     "Leliana?" Salem's voice.

     _Are you with me in death, love?_

     "Leliana, are you all right? Can you stand?"

     Sensation rushed back, light and breath and sound. "Salem?"

     Her hand on mine, roughly pulling me up. "I need you in this fight, dear heart."

     The man who had stood over me lay decapitated on the ground. _She saved my life_.

     "Salem, Leli, down!"

     Salem's arm caught me about the shoulder and she threw us to the ground. Lightning flew overhead, flaying the two archers who had taken aim, I presumed, at us.

     More were coming, flooding out of houses and alleyways. So many, so few of them real fighters. Salem scrambled to her feet and dashed off to meet our foes. Even blind, she was better with a sword than most Orlesian chevaliers.

     An eerie howl rocked the air as Burrow joined the battle. I turned to see Oghren and Shale running behind the mabari. The golem tossed me my bow and quiver before storming into the fray.

     I set the string and nocked an arrow, aiming into the bulk of the fighters, keeping a watchful eye on Salem.

     I loosed my arrow and a guard fell. Another, another, until my shoulder wept from the strain. I lowered the bow, watching the few enemies that remained fall to our swords and magic.

     Salem grappled with a city guard. A small boy approached her. Horror scoured through me as I realized the child carried a knife. I raised my bow, felt the arrow's feather kiss my cheek, and took aim. 

     _He's so small,_ my muscles trembled as Salem felled the guardsman. _I have to shoot...surely a child would not attack her. He's frightened. No,_ I cleared my vision, _I have to protect Salem...I..._

     The child reached her and the knife struck out. I dropped my bow and began running towards them...someone was screaming. Salem dropped to her knees and I sprinted the last distance.

     Salem's entire body trembled, but I could not extend a hand to comfort her.

     "Maker, forgive me." Salem breathed, gently easing the child to the earth. She rose on unsteady legs and faced me. Her shirt was torn; her right side bleeding from a shallow gash made by the boy's knife.

     The group gathered around us and fell silent, interpreting the scene. Wynne checked us for wounds and moved to Salem, the only one injured. My warden flinched at her touch.

     "You've been cut." Wynne explained, lifting Salem's shirt.

     "I didn't feel it." Salem mumbled.

     Her blind eyes darted about, searching, I knew, for me. But I could not speak. I let Wynne tend to her injury, and turned away.

     _I need my bow._


	11. Innocents that Suffer

**Salem**

     My hands were shaking. Wynne was doing something I could neither see nor feel. According to her, I had been slashed with a knife. A knife held by a child. A child who was dead. Dead at my hands. I had not felt the blow. I could not feel the blood on my body. I could not feel Wynne's hands or her magic. I wished my heart could be as numb as my side. Then...then I would not wish to run, hide, and shed oceans of tears. 

     _A child. My mother and father must be spinning in their grave. I murdered a child...one who probably did not even know what he did. Damn this quest; damn this tainted blood and this need to build an army. Damn me for what I am going to do next._

     "Salem?" Wynne's voice, questioning. "Salem, are you all right?"

     _A thousand hells of no._ "Fine." I answered, terse. "Let's finish this."

     "To the Chantry, I assume?" Leliana's voice, colder than I had ever heard.

     "From our fearless leader's steely glare, I believe you are correct." Morrigan's catty tones. "I agree. The sooner we wipe this place from any map yet drawn, the better off we all shall be."

     "Move out." I did not want this discussion to digress into another argument. I lifted my swords, hating the knowledge that the blades were still wet with the boy's blood.

     Burrow bumped my hand with his wet nose. I smiled, knowing the mabari could sense my discomfort, my hatred of all things that I was. I could feel waves of cold emanating from Leliana and comfort and concern from Wynne. The others remained distantly aloof. I knew Sten would not care; his Qun mandated success above all, damning the consequences. Morrigan had less of a conscience than Burrow. I whispered a silent prayer of thanks that Alistair had not been here to see. I did not think he could ever forgive me. I was not certain that I could forgive myself.

     _Yet the mission must continue._ I petted Burrow, absent. _I must keep killing in order to save lives. In war, victory. I_ _n peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. And in life...what about that, Grey Wardens? How are we meant to live with this burden?_

     We walked to the Chantry in this desecrated little town. Minutes stretched into eternity. I remembered another walk, with Duncan, to Ostagar. He had been kind enough to let me grieve in private, calm enough to withstand my anger, brave enough to understand my fears.

     _Remember, Lady Cousland,_ he had said, _no matter what you have lost, you remain who you are. There are those who will try to tell you that becoming a Grey Warden changes all. It is only partially true. All the wardens ask is your service. They dictate your destiny, but not how you achieve it. Those ends are left up to you._

_I'm a sterling example, Duncan,_ I mocked myself in silence. _A disgraced noble, wanted fugitive, blind child-killer. How is it that I fall further from grace, while others bring themselves higher?_

     "We're here." Sten announced.

     _All right, Father Eirik._ I subverted my grief and my shame, letting my anger come to the forefront. _Your entire damn town just tried to kill me. Let me repay the favor._

     I tightened my grip on my swords and kicked in the door. I heard the sounds of voices raised in prayer; coughed in the smoky, incense-choked air, and cringed at the smell of blood beneath the smoke. "I'm looking for Father Eirik." I said.

     "Look," a loud, authoritarian voice echoed from the back of the room, "they come, as I foretold they would. Harlots and thieves, drenched in blood, the blood of your mothers and sisters, fathers, brothers, and children."

     A low murmur rose among those gathered. I guessed seven, maybe eight, people were gathered aside from Father Eirik.

     "And you are not drenched in that same blood?" I asked, incredulous. "Is the true matter here the hand that holds the knife? Did I remove your power, Father Eirik? Disrupt your little cult?"

     "You _fool_!" he hissed. "You and your kind shall never know of the resurrection! You shall never hear the voice of the prophet reborn!"

     "You shall not know another breath." I threatened him. "What became of Brother Genitivi? I know he came here. We followed clues his research left us."

     "The heretic met his proper end." Eirik snarled. "As shall you, interloper!"

     The air seemed to ignite and sweat poured down my face.

     "He's a mage!" Morrigan called in warning.

     The others moved forward and I heard the ominous sound of weapons being drawn. I caught the blade aimed for my shoulder and thrust my other sword into my attacker's chest. It grated on metal, finally catching and slipping into the skin. Satisfied, I wrenched it out. An agonized cry echoed through the room.

     _Good. This world is better without your kind in it._ The heat intensified and I stumbled, suddenly exhausted. I had no doubt it was Eirik's magic to blame. Trusting my companions to handle the others, I strode forward into the heart of the volcano. My hair stuck to my face, but I left it alone.

     "Look at me and die, warden!" Eirik taunted. "The one you came for is dead! The secrets you have come to find shall forever remain buried! Your end is here!"

     I raised my face, hoping that my eyes looked into his. Whatever power he had, it would not work on me. The heat grew to a nearly unbearable degree. Tendrils of flame struck my hands. My blades dropped to the ground and I smelled charred flesh.

     I reached him and grasped his robes, using his body to help me stand. "It is useless." he hissed; his breath smelled of blood and sulfur. His hands grasped my face and he stared into my sightless eyes. "Die, warden."

     I reached into my belt, grasping the hilt of my knife, wincing as the leather wrapping touched my burned hand. "Not today." I struggled to form the words.

     I pulled the blade and rammed it into his gut, tearing across with a viciousness I did not expect. Whatever had happened to this town, this man had been behind it. The boy's blood was on his hands and mine. I hoped that Eirik's death would equalize with the child's in the Maker's eyes. That somewhere, Justice would see, and forgive.

     The heat vanished from the air and the clamor of battle died down. Exhausted, I sank to my knees. A warm hand rested on my shoulder.

     "Are you all right?" Leliana's voice still held a chill, but it had warmed somewhat.

     "My hands are burned." I did not sound like myself, and it worried me. "Do not worry over it." I stood with her assistance and shook my head, wiping my sweat-drenched hair out of my face. "Any injuries?"

     "A few scrapes and bruises." Oghren gruffed. "Nothin' spectacular."

     The others agreed with his statement and I whispered a quiet prayer of thanks. "Look for anything on the bodies that might tell us where they've hidden Genitivi. Eirik's claims were too fierce. The brother is not dead. Find him."

     They rushed to comply and I dropped to the floor, casting about with my burned hands to find my fallen blades. My injuries protested as I found, lifted, and sheathed them, but I ignored the pain. There would be time to worry over myself later. Time Brother Genitivi might not have.


	12. The Stranger I Adore

**Leliana**

     _The ransacking of dead bodies is an activity I have participated in far too many times,_ I thought as I combed through the pockets and seams of Eirik's robes. The material was heavy velvet, far too rich for this town's blood. As was the plate armor every single guard had been outfitted in. 

      _Are they receiving revenue at all?_ I wondered.  _They were hesitant to let us in even though we were dressed in the garb of the Chantry; I highly doubt that they would accept the less savory element of traveling merchants and the like._

     My fingers caught on something cold and metallic. I lifted an amulet away from Eirik's neck and examined it. Strangely enough, it was not crafted of any precious metal. It was too light for gold, too warm for silver, and yet it gleamed in the dim light of the torches. 

      _I am sure it has some meaning,_ I tucked the amulet away. 

     "It seems as though we missed the festivities." an Antivan accent from the door. "Always easy to find you, warden. One needs only follow the bodies."

     I knew he meant to be humorous, but I saw Salem wince as though she had been struck. I pursed my lips and continued my work. I was uncertain of how I felt about the battles in this town. On the one hand, we had been attacked without provocation. On the other, I had never before seen Salem do...what she had done. She never went into battle with the intent to slaughter. 

      _Yet I feel as though I am at fault. I had a clear shot at the boy...and did not take it. The cleanness of my conscience outweighed my lover's safety. What does this say of me?_

     "Is everyone all right?" Alistair asked. 

     "Until the next rush of crazed fanatics, I believe we are all in perfect health." Morrigan sashayed by, silver chains dangling from her fingers. 

     "Has anyone found the catch to that door?" Zevran asked, taking a torch from the wall sconce. 

     "What door?" Salem rose, somewhat unsteady on her feet. 

     I wondered if she truly was all right. Father Eirik's magic had been powerful, felt by all in the room. He had said...he had said that if you looked into his eyes, he had the power to kill. Salem was, of course, immune. Still, magic did things that no one could explain. 

     "There is a rather obvious false wall just there." Zevran pointed before realizing its uselessness. He shook his head. "On the right, at the back."

     "Get it open." Salem said, pointed. 

     Zevran and I went to the door. I knelt beside it and sighed. "It has a catch a child could open."

     A removed brick, a flip of a lever, and the wall moved back, allowing barely enough room to enter. I felt Salem's presence behind me. I turned to her and reached out, guiding her towards the opening of the door. She flinched at my touch, but stopped before pulling away. I followed her through the door, hoping that we would not encounter anymore hostility. 

     "Wynne!" Salem called. "Wynne, I need you here!"

     I rushed further into the room; saw Salem on her knees beside the prone form of a man. The room stank of rotted flesh. I dashed to her. 

     "Please," he begged through cracked and bleeding lips, "please, don't hurt me."

     "You're safe now." Salem said, her voice low and controlled. "Brother Genitivi?" 

     "Y...yes." he rasped. I opened my waterskin and helped him drink. He looked at me in appreciation. "Bless you...who...who are you?"

     "I'm Salem Cousland." she said, careful to avoid touching him as he clutched at her. She could not see the extent of his injuries and did not wish to hurt him further. But I could see. I knew the signs of torture, the marks it left on the human body. "A Grey Warden. The Arlessa of Redcliffe sent us to find you."

     "Thank the Maker." he whispered. "Are...are they dead?"

     "Every single one." I answered, moving aside as Wynne entered the room. She knelt beside us and examined Genitivi's injuries. 

     "Can you help him?" Salem asked the senior enchanter. 

     "Given time." Wynne smiled to comfort the man. "I am a healer from the Circle of Magi," ever graceful, she introduced herself. "Your injuries have gone too long untreated. Your foot is gangrenous. I can burn out the infection, but it will take time and cause a great deal of pain."

     "We don't have time." he gasped, looking at Salem, eyes wide with urgency. "We must get to the temple."

     "What temple?" my warden asked. 

     "The temple taht houses the Urn." the sheen of a mad dreamer entered his eyes. "Only that madman, Father Eirik, has the key...there is a stone door in the mountains. He carries an amulet; it's more than it seems. It is the key." he continued rambling. "I've seen him use it. I've seen him open the door into the mountain. Warden, you have to get there as soon as possible. The Arl's life depends on it."

     Wynne rested her hand against Genitivi's forehead. "I am amazed by his lucidity." she said. "He has a high fever. Salem, we need to get him into clean air and clean clothes. This is a house of death and torture. No one could heal here."

     "As you say." Salem agreed, stepping away to let Alistair and Zevran help lift the man and carry him to somewhere that did not reek of blood and magic and disease.

     "No! No!" Genitivi begged. "You cannot waste your time with me! You have to get to the temple! You have to find the Urn and save the Arl!"

     "There will be time for that!" Salem's voice whipped through the air. "First, we have to get you well. Enough people have died in pursuit of this Urn...if it even exists." her last words were muttered, too low for Genitivi to hear. 

     My heard pounded, painful. Salem had been so full of hope that this would work, that the Urn did exist and that it could heal her eyes. I had joined in that hope, praying every night and day that the Maker would see fit to restore her sight. We had both sacrificed so much in this search, more than many would be willing to give. 

     "Don't say that." I whispered. "Please."

     My plea fell on deaf ears. Genitivi looked once more to Salem. "Weylon?" 

     My warden shook her head and Genitivi's eyes closed in grief. Wynne motioned to Zevran and Alistair, who carried him from the room. Salem made to leave and I clutched her arm. Again, she flinched. 

     "What do you want?" she asked. 

     "Salem," my voice trembled and I hated it. Salem alone had the power to break my bardic control. My voice caught and stuttered or I rambled endlessly and made an utter fool of myself. "Salem, are you well?"

     "Do not worry over me." Salem replied, brusque. 

     I hurt. I hurt for her, and myself, and the horrible misgivings that filled my heart. She could show care and tenderness to a complete stranger, whom another stranger had sent us to save. But...when it came to me, the one she claimed to love, she turned to ice. 

     "Salem, please." I begged, loathing my own weakness. 

     "This is not the time." she cut deeper with her words, inflicting the wounds I had asked for. "It can wait."

     "I have Eirik's key." I insisted, in case she had thought to leave me to attempt to find it. 

     "That is one less thing to do then." she left me standing, alone in the room with blood on the floor and the screams of innocents haunting the air. 

     I shuddered and followed her, praying that this had not gone irreparably wrong. Salem stood in the main room, listening as Alistair relayed information, I presumed about where they had taken Genitivi. Salem nodded. 

     I want these bodies buried." she said to all of us. "A place like this, I wish to take no chances that they will rise from the ground like the monsters in Redcliffe. Find shovels, spades, pickaxes, anything that can turn the earth."

     "We've already found some." Oghren stood over a pile of the tools Salem had mentioned. 

     My warden lifted a shovel. "Excellent work. I want them in the ground by nightfall. Now, if you will excuse me."

     She left the mockery that was Haven's Chantry and I felt the sting of angry tears.  _She is going to bury the child,_ I realized.  _Absorbing her sin...trying to find a way to forgive herself. Salem, why? I may have been tortured in body, but you are the only woman I have met who consistently tortures her own soul. How long until it breaks you, my love?_ I shook my head as I grabbed a spade and realized what I truly asked. _  
_

      _How long until it breaks me?_ _  
_


	13. Attempting Amends

**Salem**

    I packed the earth until it was flat and hard beneath my feet. Stone. The granite that my heart should have been made from. 

      _How dare this tenderness still exist inside me? How dare I be driven to grief by actions that were taken by necessity?_

     The mission...the mission had been successful. Genitivi had been saved; he had the knowledge we needed and Leliana had the key. Everything had fallen into place. Still, misgivings filled me. How could ultimate healing be found in this place, a place that worshipped death and spilled blood? And, after all I had done to reach this place, would the Maker smile on me and give me back my eyes or send me back blind to face the fate I had chosen. 

     I heaved a sigh and wiped the sweat from my face, leaving streaks of dirt. My hands smelled like death; my clothes of blood and sweat and earth. I hated it. I hated that I was never clean. I hated the knowledge that no ocean, stream, or waterfall could ever wash away the stains upon my soul. I had never intended to live my life in the half-light between good and evil. 

      _I suppose the title "Grey Warden" is more fitting than most realize. We are the guardians of light and life, standing in the shadows, forsaking our names and our hopes in defense of those who will never know...or understand. We stain our souls with blood and our minds with decisions that no person of any race should be forced to make._

     Frustrated, I speared the shovel into the ground. My burned hands shrieked in protest. Wind whispered past me, tossing my hair. It, too, reeked of copper, salt, and decay. 

      _I should never have come here._

     Another scent entered filled the air. Sunlight and clover...and dog. Burrow nudged into my leg, whimpering. He could sense my moods better than any of my companions, even Leliana. But he had known me since his birth. He was the sole reminder of the time when I was simply Salem Cousland, the youngest child of a noble's house. He had known me when I was truly good. 

     "I don't know what to do." I spoke to him, soft, lest the wind take my voice and lay it against ears I did not wish to hear. "They all look to me as a leader and I'm lost. I'm  _blind_ and still they turn to me for guidance. It's too much, Burrow. It is too much for anyone to bear."

     I sat down, weary. Burrow whuffed into my ear, unimpresed with my self-pity. My father had said that mabari could sense the truth of a person's soul. That they would not follow anyone with darkness in their hearts or ill intent towards another. 

     "What do you know of it?" I asked the dog, venting my anger. "What do you know of being alone in the dark with a thousand voices screaming your name? You are not forced to decide who lives and who dies, or ascertain the measure of a soul in the blink of an eye. I have let an assassin go free and taken the life of a child. How does this equalize?"

     He growled at me.  _Come to your senses,_ I imagined him speaking.  _Leave this place for a moment and recall your life before. Remember who you were. Remember what you dream of being._

     "I dream of being free." I whispered, laying my arm across his broad shoulders. "I dream of a life where I can live with you and Leliana and simply exist. I want my name back, Burrow. I was born during the war with Orlais, you know. My father named me Salem. Because it meant peace. And his dream was of a world where nation did not march against nation and the blood of young men and women did not water the ground."

     I wept. I wept for the death of my father's dream and for my abandonment of my name. I cried for the child who now lay deep beneath the earth. I wept for Leliana's dreams of Marjolaine, and how those had been cruelly severed, twice, with the same blade. I shed tears for Zevran's slavery, Sten's seemingly hopeless quest, Morrigan's bitterness, Wynne's past failures that haunted her still, Oghren's whiskey-soaked nightmares, and Alistair's fears. 

     Burrow licked my hand, comforting me as best he knew how. Hot tears sluiced down my face, leaving trails of salt and fire. I berated myself even as my spirit screamed in relief; as the dam of my emotions broke. I could not afford this weakness. Not here. Not now. Not when so much depended on my ability to remain calm. 

     Soft, strong arms wrapped around me; warmth pressed against my skin. "Cry, my love." Leliana whispered. "I am here for you."

     Too broken to resist, I turned into her arms, laid my head against her shoulders, and sobbed. She held me as my body shook with tremors, as grief poured from me in waves. 

     "I..." I gasped, "I've failed you all. I...please forgive me."

     "You have failed no one." her voice was soft, but I knew steel lay behind the silk. "So much has been forced upon you, my warden. It is unfair, it is cruel, and there are days when I do not know how you remain standing beneath the weight. You need not weep in silence, or save your grief for shadows."

     "I...I cannot afford to be weak." I resisted, clinging to her all the more. I needed her strength, her surety, her absolute, unshakeable faith in the beauty of this world. 

     "Be weak." she encouraged me. "No one will suffer for it here. If you forsake your tears, then soon you shall have none. No grief, no remorse, no hesitance. I have seen it before. I know what you believe you are becoming and it is not true. It is not true because of what you are showing me now."

     "You...you can't forgive me for this, can you?" I asked. I had felt her presence near me after the child died. I had felt her turn her back. 

     "For what crime?" she asked. "Defending yourself? The rest of us? You had no choice."

     A fresh wave of tears. "That does not solve anything."

     "I know. Nothing I can say will change the past, Salem. I can only give you what I have in this moment. You are no monster. You are not evil. You have nothing in common with the darkspawn or the depraved citizens of Haven. You are Salem, my..."

     "Don't say it." I warned. I did not want to hear the title that had caused me all of this grief. 

     I could sense her smile as she pressed her lips to my cheek. "My promise of peace." she breathed against my ear. "My hope for our future. I love you. No life nor death will change that."

     I basked for a small moment in the comfort of her presence, the peace of her spirit, and the fire of her love. At last, I pulled away from her embrace. "I should go..."

     "No." she tightened her grip. "Stay with me a short time longer. As you said, there will be time for that later."

     Too weak to resist, too exhausted to argue, I stayed, briefly surrendering my burdens. Leliana spoke true. The time to shoulder them once more would come all too soon. 


	14. The Continuing Curse

**Leliana**

    The sun began to go down, painting the sky a beautiful mosaic of reds, indigos, and violets. I held Salem in my arms, feeling at peace for the first time in what seemed like forever. Her breath was still ragged with tears; her body shook with fine tremors of exhaustion. 

      _How near the edge were you,_ I wondered, pressing my lips against her hair.  _How close to collapse? I turned away from you...I abandoned you when you needed me. But I'm here now. Please, forgive me._ _  
_

I moved my hand from Salem's waist and brushed the hair out of my face. My hand felt wet, sticky. I glanced at it and paled when I saw blood there.

     "Salem, are you all right?" I asked, thinking that she must have re-opened her wound during the fight with Eirik. Or while burying the boy. 

     "I will be." her answer made me smile. 

     Her iron facade had faltered and the part of herself that she longed to be true to showed. Her calm. Her peace. Her acceptance of the present and the serenity with which she faced the most uncertain of futures. 

     "Are you in any pain?" I wondered how my voice remained calm. Perhaps it was this stolen moment shared with her and the tranquility of the setting sun. 

     "No. Why?" she shifted, her instinct still to meet my eyes. 

     Then, I began to worry. 

     "You're bleeding." I told her, moving aside her shirt to see her bandages stained red. The wound had not been deep, or severe. What made me anxious was Salem's utter lack of concern...or reaction.

     I pressed my hand against the bandage and looked for a response, a wince, a gasp...anything. Salem merely sat there, unfazed by the added pressure and discomfort. "Can you not feel this?" I asked, mystified. 

     She shook her head with an air of...resignation?

      _I did not feel it..._ those had been her words when Wynne informed her of the injury. I had thought it was battle fever, or perhaps shock from having killed the boy. Apparently, it had been something else. I inhaled deep, reining in my emotion. We did not need another argument. I could not bear to let something come between us again. Seeing her this vulnerable, shedding tears for lost life and dreams...it reminded me of what was precious, of what mattered to me above all. 

     I wanted to see her through this, embrace her at the end of the road, and help her heal the wounds in body and spirit. For that, I would turn away from anger and forsake fear. 

     "What is it?" I asked, waiting for her to deflect the question, or shrug off the inquiry. 

     Salem sighed. "I do not know." she replied. "Ever since we left Denerim, my side has continued to go numb. It was random at first...but I haven't felt anything there since we entered Haven."

      _Why did you not tell me...you stubborn, thoughtless, foolish, mindless...I love you and I worry! Must you always do this? Must you always insist on walking alone through blades and brambles?_

"Why..." I stilled my tongue, regained my composture, and spoke again. "You should have told me."

     "I know." Salem ran her hand through her hair and sighed. "It seems I can offer you nothing of late but apologies. I wanted to tell you but I..."

     "Did not wish me to worry." I shook my head and laughed a little. "As if I do not wake and sleep worrying for you. I panic at the sight of blood on your skin, even when it belongs to another. Please, this must change. For me, for yourself, please, Salem. It is a small favor, but it is all I ask."

     "You have every right to." she did not argue. Her voice was flat, void of emotion. "It is...difficult...to break my nature, Leliana."

     "I understand." I cupped her face with my hand, rubbing my thumb across her high cheekbone, admiring the delicate strength of her features. "All I ask is that you try."

     "I promise." she agreed. 

     "Come." I rose, reluctant to leave, but necessity, as always, pushed us forward. "We need to talk to Wynne."

     Salem heaved yet another heavy sigh. "As you say." she managed a smile and extended her hand. I helped her to her feet, frowning at the blood that stained her shirt. 

     We found Wynne ensconced in a small house. Genitivi lay on a bed in the back of the single room, asleep. The senior enchanter rinsed blood from her hands and glanced up to greet us. "Salem, Leliana, is all well?"

     "For the moment." Salem answered. "How is he?"

     "He will be fine." Wynne rolled her shoulders. Her eyes had dark circles beneath them and her fingers tremored with exhaustion. "With the Maker's grace, I even managed to save his leg. With support, he should be able to take us to the temple in the morning. Is there anything you need?"

     "Salem's cut re-opened." I spoke before my lover could downplay the damage done. "And she can feel nothing in her right side."

     Wynne's eyebrows arched. She walked to Salem and lifted her shirt, pressing in the skin as I had. Again, there was no reaction. A blue glow spun from Wynne's hand and licked along the edges of Salem's wound. The warden despised healing magic. For most, it caused mild discomfort. Salem said it felt worse than receiving the injury it mended."

     "You are not feeling this?" Wynne asked, a note of anxiety layered in the calm. 

     "No. No sensation. No touch or pain or heat or cold." Salem's voice shook. 

     This had been troubling her a great deal. I could see that now. But she had not spoken, holding out hope for the Urn; that it would take away whatever malady this was and she would not have to worry about it. Hope, that which I had feared she had forgotten, still burned deep within her. 

     "This does not bode well." Wynne mused, poking and prodding at Salem's side. But Salem gave no response. 

     Even when Wynne dug her nails into the shallow furrow across Salem's torso, my warden showed nothing.  _What could possibly be doing this,_ I wondered. 

     "Leliana," Wynne's voice jarred me, "what are the exact effects of Andraste's Flames?"

      _Why? Why would that be important?_ "It weakens the veins, making it difficult to heal." I answered, remembering that horrible night when Salem had given her life for me. "And it hyper-sensitizes the nerves, making even the slightest touch excruciating."

     "And the antidote?" Wynne continued her questioning of me. 

     "Neutralizes the poison, of course...deadening the nerves." I caught the healer's thoughts. 

     "What does this mean?" Salem asked. "I...I do not understand."

     "When the antidote was administered," Wynne explained and I cringed, remembering Salem's bewildered eyes as I plunged a blade near her heart, "you had an immense amount of magic coursing through your veins. I think perhaps it accelerated the antidote, expounded the effects...numbed you entirely."

     "Maker's blood-soaked breath." Salem pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can I do nothing right? I cannot even receive an antidote."

     "Salem, I will not lie, this is quite dangerous." Wynne's voice was clinically detached. "You did not even feel it when you were cut. And it may spread beyond your right side to other parts of your body."

      _If the effects did branch out...she could not feel her swords in her hands. An enemy would disarm her and she would be completely unaware. This is almost worse than blindness._

     "All the more reason to find the Urn." Salem muttered. Dark humor crackled beneath her smile. "Let us see if these atrocious people managed to hide away some wine. We can toast the fact that I am not actively dying."

     I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight.  _I hope this gets no worse. I do not know what I would do if she could no longer feel my touch._

     "I would rather find a quiet place." I whispered. 

     Uncaring that Wynne was in the room, Salem kissed me, deep, memorizing the feel of my lips and the contours of my face. "I agree." she smiled. 

     "Thank you, Wynne." Salem touched the healer's shoulder as we left. 

     "Be careful, child." she counseled. 

     "As you say."

     We walked out under the moon and I shivered. Salem wrapped her arm around my shoulders and pulled me tight to her. There was a lightness in her step that I did not understand. 

     "Salem, are you all right?" I asked. 

     "I love you." she did not answer, but I found myself smiling.

     "But..."

     "It is not killing me, Leliana." she anticipated my question. "I was so afraid that I would make you relive Denerim. That terrified me more than anything, more than not being able to feel a knife going through my skin. I never wanted to hurt you again. Not like that. I suppose I am...happy?"

      _She questions her joy._ I leaned into her embrace and she pressed her lips against my hair.  _And she shrugs off this new challenge because I will not be hurt by it. I love this woman. Maker, keep her safe, please._

     We found a quiet place, sequestered, away from the stark buildings of Haven and the fire the others had built. Stars peered out from the ink-dark of midnight and I could swear they were singing. We lay down and gazed at them, thinking separate thoughts, dreaming separate dreams. But we were together. 

     I tucked my head against Salem's shoulder; wrapped my arm about her waist. 

     "Sweet dreams, Leliana." she whispered. 

     They were. 


	15. The Defiled Temple

**Salem**

    "The key is placed here." Genitivi spoke, pausing every now and again for breath. It had not been a long journey, but the man was exhausted and barely healed from his torture at the hands of Haven's madmen. 

     I heard the chink of metal as Leliana handed Genitivi the key. "If I recall," he muttered, turning the amulet in his hand, "there is a catch just...here."

     The "snick" of metal; Leliana squeezed my shoulder. He had remembered correctly. Genitivi placed the key in my hand and guided me to a groove cut into a wall of solid stone. I set the key and turned it, hearing the groan of chains and the complaints of pulleys. 

     Air that smelled of thick incense rushed out to greet us. I coughed and strode forward, uncertain, into the mouth of the hidden temple.  _How did its existence remain secret all these years? Who could have protected it from discovery?_

     "By the Stone." Oghren muttered. "Didn't think topsiders had the know-how t'build somethin' like this. If I couldn't see the sky, I'd swear we were in a thaig."

     His voice echoed through the room, bouncing off and returning, leaving and coming again. I wished I could see what they were seeing; bask in the glory that had driven my companions to silence. 

     "This is...incredible." Genitivi breathed. "Of course the ancient texts give some detail, but nothing could come close to this...majesty."

     "If what they say is true," Leliana spoke, "the Bride of the Maker was laid to rest here. It would, of course, be beautiful."

      _But beauty is denied me. I am not fit to set foot here. Even if we find the Urn, will I be able to lay my hands against it? Will I be able to bring healing back to Redcliffe? Will I be healed?_

     As we walked further in, the smell of incense turned from fragrant to acrid. Something here, as in Haven, was very, very wrong. 

     "Brother Genitivi," I grasped my swords and whispered them from their sheathes, "I must ask that you return to Haven, or stay here."

     "Salem, what is wrong?" Wynne asked. 

     I heard Oghren ready his axe, Alistair and Zevran draw their blades, Leliana string her bow. They trusted me, even when blind, to sense danger near us. 

     "We were wrong in assuming that all the mad remained in Haven. If this truly is the resting place of Andraste, then the greeting party in town was just the beginning. There will be more; better armed and more skilled. Alistair, Shale, stay with Brother Genitivi. Keep him safe. That is an order."

      _If we die, someone must take back the story of what happened here._

     "What?" my fellow Grey Warden sounded distressed. "Are you trying to insult me?"

     "No, 'tis simply chivalry at work." Morrigan's musical laugh danced around us. "Women and children are to be preserved at all costs."

     "No one asked you." Alistair grumbled. 

     "We do not know what we are facing." I fought down a smile. "Alistair stays behind. Should the worst come to pass, Ferelden will still need her warden." I laid my hand against his shoulder in apology. 

     "I don't like it." the future king spat. 

     "Neither do I." I punched him lightly on the shoulder. "No warrior wishes to leave her staunchest sword behind. But there is much more at stake here than you and I. Guard Genitivi, wait for our return. No heroics."

     "But..."

     "Any further complaint and I will leave you here with Morrigan." I crossed my arms. "Well?"

     Alistair cleared his throat. "Godspeed, Salem."

     I smiled, for sorrow. Alistair wanted to come with us, to fight whatever it would be that stood in our way. But I could not allow it. Duncan was dead; no other wardens were coming to our aid. I had to endanger my party to ensure that at least one of us remained alive. It was not a pleasant thing to do, but he had granted me the position of leadership and he knew it. 

     "Be safe, brother." I turned around. 

     "There is something ominous at work here." Leliana whispered, coming alongside me. "I have been in many holy places. None of them have ever felt like this."

     "What do you feel?" I asked, trusting her judgment as she trusted mine. 

     "Menace." the word sent a shiver down my spine, but I felt the truth of it. 

     A powerful presence hovered over this place and, without speech, without sound, it was clear that me and mine were not welcome.  _Welcome or not, we have come._ I thought.  _I have faced no challenge which I have not surmounted. I have even come back from death. Throw at me what you will, I am unafraid._

     "Salem..." Leliana backed away. 

     "I hear them."

     Footfalls. Plate armor striking against stone. I had been right. Our enemies were upon us. 

     "No mercy and no quarter." Morrigan's voice roughened. 

     Twin howls shattered the silence, rebounding off the walls. "Go." I ordered. 

     Burrow and Morrigan in her wolf-form charged into the fray. I heard the music of a bowstring drawn taut. Leliana...my guardian angel of death. A smile crossed my lips, more akin to a baring of teeth than a show of joy. 

    "Alistair and Shale, protect Wynne and Leliana. The rest of you..."

    "Kill 'em all." Oghren finished. 

     I walked forward, slow, waiting for enemies to come to me, as I knew they would. The clank of armor neared and I readied my blades, stepping away from the warhammer's blow. It crashed against the stone and I stepped forward, slicing upward, through the man's gorget and into his neck. Metal crashed to the ground and my sword returned to me, smelling of blood. 

     "Salem!" a cry...Leliana. 

     I ducked as her arrow flew overhead, burying itself somewhere in another attacker's body. I rose, and kept moving, seeking enemies of flesh and blood in this hall of stone. My body felt like it was on fire, and I relished the sensation. I could not deny, that though I loathed the shedding of men's blood, I loved battle. 

      _What manner of hypocrite does this make me?_ I wondered as I countered another's blade with my own, slicing through the chinks of his armor and into flesh. 

     Sweat ran down my back; I had grown too accustomed to not wearing armor. A knife whisked past my face and I turned, catching the attacker's wrist and striking my fist against their nose. A sick crunch as cartilage and bone shoved into their skull. 

     I relinquished my foe and listened. Burrow bounded up to me and gnawed playfully at my gauntlets. Apparently, his work was done. I scratched him behind the ears. "Good dog."

     "Not bad, fer a first wave." Oghren came close to me. "Reckon they'll get thicker as we get closer."

     "Of that," I waved the rest of my friends forward, save those whom I had told to stay behind, "I have no doubt. Let's keep moving."

     Leliana came to my side as we left the main hall, her presence a silent question. I reached down and squeezed her hand. All was well, for the moment. 

     


	16. Simple Gifts

**Leliana**

    "Maker." Salem slumped against the wall of the cavern. "Everyone, take a moment. Rest."

     Our breath showed in the frigid air. The cultists seemed to be endless, with mages, berserkers, assassins and their various unholy methods of taking lives. I looked down at my hands. The nails were torn and bloody, my fingers shaking with cold. I was certain Zevran's looked the same. 

     The traps had been difficult to disarm, though not skillfully laid. In that, we were fortunate. No one had been caught. Yet. I felt our luck would run out soon. 

     "Is there a drop of water left among our reserves?" Morrigan's beleaguered voice wafted through the tunnels. 

     I pushed off of the wall and went to her, detaching my canteen from my belt. "Here." I handed it to the witch. "Are you all right?"

     "Bloody reavers." her reply lacked its normal acid tones. "The ignoble brute caught the side of my face with the spike of his gauntlet. I am not well-pleased."

     I tilted her head to the scant light, examining the scratches across her cheek. They were quite deep, but Wynne's magic was best utilized for battle at the moment. I pulled a handkerchief from my sleeve and lifted a handful of snow from the floor, wrapping the cloth square around it. I pressed it to Morrigan's cheek. 

     "That should take away some of the sting." I said, watching the fine silk forever ruined by the witch's blood. "And help stop the bleeding."

     Her amber eyes glowered at me, filled with mistrust. After all this time, she still expected a knife in the back from every single one of us, save perhaps Salem. "I suppose I should...say something." she mumbled. 

     "Do not overtax yourself." I offered her the chance to escape her inability to be civil. 

     She returned my canteen with a catty sneer. "Thank you, songstress." the words were ice against her teeth, but I accepted them with a smile. 

     "You are welcome, Morrigan." I countered her chill with my warmth, hoping to smooth out some of the unresolved issues between us. 

      _At least we have battle to bring us together._  I reasoned. _If ever our unity should fray to the point that it did that day, the need to draw swords will dimish it once more. But, when does this end? When do we get out of these damnable tunnels?_

     "Is everybody all right?" Salem asked. 

     "Bloody ducky." Oghren reached into his boot and pulled out a flask, taking a long swig of whatever foul concoction he had in there. 

     Wynne approached me, examining small scorch marks in her robes. "Nasty things, dragonlings." she said. "But other than that, minor injuries. Nothing insurmountable."

     "I believe it will only get worse from here." Zevran slid against the wall to the ground. He rubbed snow on his hands, attempting to clean the small nicks and cuts left by the trap's disarming mechanisms. 

     "I hate to agree, but the elf has sound reasoning." Morrigan nodded her assent. 

     Burrow yipped in agreement. 

     "We'll rest a few moments more." Salem nodded. "But we have to keep moving. I want these cultists wiped from the face of the earth. Leliana, I need you for a moment."

     I walked to her, hoping that she was all right. She stood in the shadows, but I could see the clench in her jaw and the pallor of her face. The pauldron on her left shoulder was badly dented. 

     "What is it, love?" I asked. 

     "That last skirmish, bloody axe-haft caught my shoulder." she grimaced. "I think it might be dislocated. I...I can't move my arm."

       _You...you told me._ I did not know why those were the first thoughts that entered my mind.  _You are keeping your promise. I infinitely prefer this to wondering after your health. I can only imagine how difficult this is for you, my warrior. I pray I can convey how much this means to me._

     "Maker's breath." I moved my fingers to the straps of her armor, wincing as the leather roughed my already abused skin. 

     "Don't." she reached up and grasped my wrist. "I can smell the blood on your hands. You needn't hurt yourself more."

     "I am all right." I assured her. "But your armor is badly damaged. If the metal was pierced, if might but cutting into your skin. As you said, we must keep moving. We cannot do that without you."

     "Very well." she inhaled deep and leaned back against the wall. 

     I continued working the straps, prying the damaged metal from her body. Her shirt had been torn; the skin beneath it was mottled purple and black.  _She must be in a great deal of pain._

     "Can you move your fingers, love?" I asked. 

     She curled her hand into a fist and winced. I breathed a sigh of relief. "I do not think it is broken, but dislocated, as you said." I pulled off my leather bracer. "Bite down on this."

     My warden fixed it between her teeth, obliging me. I grasped her shoulder and braced myself. "Take a deep breath." 

     She obeyed. 

     With a jarring, sickening crunch, the joint snapped back into place. Salem pitched forward into my arms, the bracer falling from her lips as she groaned. 

     "Forgive me." I whispered, knowing how painful it was to re-align a joint. "I love you, Salem."

     "Bless you." she whispered, gathering her composure. She rolled her shoulder, adjusting to the discomfort. 

     "Are you still able to fight?" I questioned, knowing already what the answer would be. 

     "Of course." she flashed a wicked smile. "After all, I just received the best care Thedas has to offer."

     I blushed a little at the compliment, as sporadically given as her physical affection in ill-timed moments. 

     "Are you all right?" she asked, the rough leather of her gauntlet pressed against my cheek. 

     "I am fine."  _As long as you are near, I will always be all right._ "How is your side, love?"

     "I still cannot feel it." she tucked her hair behind her ears. "I do not know if I have taken any damage there or not."

     Worried, I stepped closer and wrapped my arm about her.  _So you could be bleeding internally, or suffering from broken bones and you would not know. Damn it, damn it, damn it._

     "Do you..."

     "No." she was firm. "I'm still standing and able to fight. I refuse to jeopardize this. Come." her tone became that of the commander. "We press on."

     A cavern lay before us, hopefully the one that would lead us to the end. The others had been dead ends filled with enemies. We were all nearing exhaustion. Another skirmish might see us in dire straits. But I trusted Salem. So, without hesitation, I followed. 


	17. Battle for the Ashes

**Salem**

    The air changed as we strode forward. It was no longer close and pressing, as it had been in the tunnels. My shoulder throbbed dully with every step. I had assured Leliana that I could still fight; in truth I was uncertain. 

      _However, I cannot afford uncertainty._

     "Who would dare enter here?" a dark voice barked across the stone. "You reek of the blood of my brothers and sisters. I am not well pleased."

     The clanking of armor met my ears. Whoever it was stood at least a head and a half taller than I. Other footsteps echoed through the room, surrounding us. My companions spread out at a gesture from my hands, taking a defensive stance as I faced the one who had greeted us. 

     "Were we not attacked, we would not have responded in kind." I answered, attempting civility. 

     "They were my brothers and sisters, my sons and daughters, children of the Prophet reborn. You have spilled blood without cause, interloper. Give me reason not to do the same."

     "Give me your name." I replied, unwilling to cede hard-fought ground to this man. "Then we can speak of reason."

     "I am Father Kolgrim, leader of Haven and protector of the Holy Prophet." he growled. "And who are you?"

     "Salem Cousland, Grey Warden." I answered. "We've come to seek the Urn of Sacred Ashes."

     "You've come for the Urn, have you?" he asked, his voice developing a keen edge. It had lost its hostility, and that worried me. "And you cut a bloody swath through my followers to do so. Perhaps we need not be at odds, Grey Warden."

     "You lead these people?" I asked, growing angry with this man...this monster. "You led those at Haven? Father Eirik and the townsfolk?"

     "Yes." I heard footsteps. He had begun pacing, slow, deliberate, as though deep in thought. "Eirik knew my words for truth. He saw the Prophet reborn. He followed her orders, as do I. As will all the world, when she returns in her full glory and the Exalted March begins anew!"

     "What do you speak of?" I asked, becoming confused. 

     "She has awoken!" Kolgrim bellowed. "Fed by fire, ashes, blood, and faith, our Andraste has returned to us! I have laid eyes upon her, Warden! I have witnessed the glory of the Maker's own Bride! She is all that is power and glory! And I am her Herald!"

      _You are barking mad_ , I thought, but did not speak the words aloud. Kolgrim struck me as many charismatic leaders...prone to excessive violence if provoked. 

     Leliana came to my side. "This is blasphemy." she whispered against my ear. "We cannot trust him. He is responsible for Haven's atrocities."

     "I have no intention of joining him." I assured her, nudging her away as I felt Kolgrim's unease. "Father Kolgrim, what do you ask of us?"

     "The Urn lies just beyond here." Kolgrim's voice dropped; he no longer sounded the fanatic. "But it is protected by an Ancient Guardian who will let neither me nor my brothers and sisters pass. Take this," he pressed something into my hand, something fragile, made of glass, "and when you find the ashes, sprinkle them with it. Bring about the final stage of our Prophet's resurrection!"

     I turned my eyes to the glass, feigning sight, lest he take advantage of my weakness. "What is it?" I wondered. 

      _Why does he insist on claiming that Andraste has returned? Who does Kolgrim worship? What man could incite such loyalty that he could cause others to commit such atrocities?_

     "It is the blood of dragons." Kolgrim informed me. "The last magic needed for resurrection."

      _Blasphemy and heresy. Though to decline will surely bring his wrath, and I do not know how many allies he has here. However, we have faced greater odds and harsher battles. So be it. I cannot risk tainting the Ashes and I will not reward the desires of a madman. A man who would throw children into his fanatical grist mill._

     "No." the single word ricocheted from the walls. 

     "You would defy the Herald of the Prophet!?" Kolgrim fumed. "What are you in the scope of time but an ant, a worm! You would deny Andraste her new life, and her people salvation!? How brash, how arrogant, how  _froward_!"

     "I will not give way to the ranting of a madman!"

     I returned his heat with my own. I had drunk my fill of wicked men plying me to do their bidding in the name of their own greater good. I would not be used. I dashed his precious vial of dragon's blood against the ground, hearing the ice sizzle and melt beneath it. 

     "Who are you to command me, Kolgrim?"

     " _I am the father of Andraste's resurrection!_ " he roared. " _And you will burn beneath the wrath of our Prophet! Warriors and saints, to me! Andraste shall reward her faithful!_ "

      _You will all die...and I cannot guarantee the pleasantness of the life after._ I drew my swords, praying. Praying that our strength would hold; that we could defeat this menace. 

     Kolgrim charged at me, screaming like the madman he was. I twisted away as his broadsword swept out, seeking my head. I spun back, aiming my blade for his neck. He parried my strike and rushed forward. I scissored my blades out; chills ran down my spine as their edges grated against his armor. Kolgrim planted his foot in my chest and kicked.

     I lost my balance and fell back, gasping for breath as I struck the stone. I rolled away and staggered to my feet, ignoring the sharp sting in my left shoulder.  _Hold,_ I begged my body,  _just for one more battle._ _  
_

     The sounds of magic resounded through the room; men screamed and Burrow howled. We were outnumbered. 

     Kolgrim charged again and swung his blade down, perparing to cleave me in two. I crossed my blades, feeling my feet give ground as I strained against his weight, strength, and stature. My shoulder  _shrieked_ as it threatened to dislocate once again.  _I...cannot...hold...him._

     I stopped resisting, relinquished my blades, and dropped to my knees, slid forward; listened to the satisfying clang of his sword on stone. I reached up and clutched his wrist, using him to pull myself up. Reaching back, I rammed my fist against his face, only for the metal of my gauntlet to strike off of his helmet. 

     He retaliated, dropping his sword...the world spun as I felt metal against my jaw. The impact spun me around and I nearly fell. I staggered back and heard Kolgrim take up his sword. 

     "You are unarmed, warden." he said, and I could hear the bloodthirst in his voice. "You have no choice now but to do as I direct. You will smear her ashes with dragon's blood. You will give my lady life!"

     "I...will do..." I dodged his manic strikes, wincing as his blade collided with my bracer, "... _no such thing!_ "

     "Then  _die_!" he hissed, bringing his sword up for the blow that would end my life. 

      _Trust in your madness, Kolgrim,_ I smiled.  _For I trust my own._

     He swung the blade down as I charged him, tackling him to the ground. His sword clattered across the stone ground; the shock of my attack had done what I intended. But again I was at a disadvantage. Kolgrim was not injured and battle-weary.

     His metal-clad fist rammed against my left shoulder as I reached for his helmet and I could not prevent the cry that escaped my lips. He struck it repeatedly, knowing now that he caused me pain. Minute flickers of light danced before my eyes as he dislocated the joint for a second time. I gasped, reaching back and clawing at my boot for the hilt of my knife. 

     My fingers closed around it as Kolgrim's fist connected with my jaw again. Pain...disorientation...a rush of blood across my lips. I pulled my blade and rammed it into the first place I could, through Kolgrim's armored plate and into his knee. 

     He let out the shriek of a wounded animal and threw me from his body. I rolled across the ground, coming to rest at last. I lay still, afraid to move. The world fazed in and out, between sight and blindness, dream and reality.  _Have to...kill him._ My trembling right hand cast about for a rock, a stick, anything. My left arm hung once more useless at my side. 

     Panic spread through me as I heard Kolgrim's now uneven gait come towards me. My fingers closed around the hilt of what I prayed was a sword. I lifted it as Kolgrim brought his blade down. Metal struck against metal and my arm went numb from the impact. 

      _He could kill me now, pull his blade away and strike again. He has me pinned...I could not hold out against another strike. Why does he insist on pinning me down? Maker, give me strength..._

     "I'll do it." I gasped. "I surrender. Leave me alive and I will do what you wish."

     "Swear it, warden. Swear on the Maker's name." he forced my blade against my gorget, reminding me that my life was held in his hand. 

     "I swear." I gasped, praying that he would let me survive. "On the name," he angled the blade down, beneath the protective armor, pressing steel to flesh, "of the Maker. Please." the word emerged as a whimper. 

     He laughed and the pressure of his blade left mine. Wasting no time, I sat up and plunged my sword up under the plate of his armor, into his skin. I smelled the rush of blood and heard the man's agonized wail. With as much strength as I had left, I twisted the blade. Kolgrim crashed to his knees and pain exploded through my body as his fist thundered against my temple before he fell on top of me. I collapsed, dizzy, sick, unable to move his weight. Instead, I lay there, listening to the battle. 

     "He's dead!" Kolgrim's men screamed. "The warden has killed the Herald! Flee! Flee before we feel the prophet's wrath!"

     "Le..." I tried to shout, but could not find the breath. My ears were ringing. "Let them go." I whispered. 

     "Do not give chase!" Leliana's voice rang through the room. "They are too afraid to return!"

      _She's alive._ I smiled and tasted blood on my teeth.  _She survived. Thank the Maker._ I opened my eyes and swore I could see the sky, warm, blue, and inviting.  _But I can only see...in dreaming...so very...tired..._


	18. Trials of Loving a Warrior

**Leliana**

     I fired a few parting shots at our attackers, felling two. When I could no longer hear their footsteps, I let my shoulders sag. My vision blurred in and out. 

      _Not since the Deep Roads have I been this tired,_ I thought, wiping sweat from my brow.  _My very bones are exhausted._

     I looked around, seeing how my companions had fared. Sten watched the tunnel the others had fled into, guarding against the chance that they might gain their courage and return. Zevran pulled himself from the floor with a wicked grin. There was blood on his armor, but it did not seem as though much of it belonged to him. Oghren busied himself with scouring the bodies of the dead, searching for their valuables and, I smiled, their alcohol. Morrigan seemed no worse for wear as she lounged against the wall. 

     Wynne came up to me, moving slowly. "Are you all right?" I asked, hurrying to her side. 

     "Fine, child." she laid a reassuring hand on my arm. "Just suffering the after-effects of a lyrium draught."

     "Thank the Maker." I breathed. I cast my eyes around the room, searching for the one person I had not seen.  _Salem,_ I could not find her,  _where are you?_

     Burrow bounded over to me, whining. He latched onto my hand and  _pulled_. My heart began hammering in my chest. Wynne followed as Burrow dragged me to the center of the cavern. I began running. 

     Two bodies lay on the floor, one with long, dark hair. "Salem!" her name tore from my throat as I crashed to my knees beside them. I shoved the body of the giant, but could not move his dead weight. 

      _Damn it!_ "Sten!" I called. "Oghren! I need your help!"

     I continued straining against Kolgrim's unyielding corpse. "Andraste's ass, Salem!" I swore. "What have you done to yourself now?"

     The qunari reached us and rolled Kolgrim's corpse away with ease. He walked away with a grunt before I could thank him. I looked at my warden, afraid to touch her. Blood had run from her nose, covering her mouth and streaming down her neck. A cut at her temple had bled profusely, matting her hair to her skin. 

     I tore my gloves off with my teeth, pressing my bare hand to her cheek, above the dark bruise forming on her jaw. Her skin was still warm. Trembling, I reached for the pulse at her throat, feeling relief wash over me as I felt it pound steadily beneath my fingertips. 

     I looked to Wynne in a silent plea for help. The senior enchanter knelt and her hands glowed blue. She ran them over Salem's body. I hated asking the exhausted mage to push her limits yet further, but I had no other choice. 

      _Please be all right, love_. I whispered with my thoughts, trying to calm the screaming of my mind.  _I could not bear to lose you again. Do not make me relive that horror, I beg you._

     Wynne finished and looked at me with a weary smile. "She has a concussion. Her left shoulder is dislocated and several of the muscles are torn. I...I could not discern anything further...my reserves are dangerously low and the lyrium has yet to take effect."

     "I understand." I replied, both grateful and terrified. 

     A hand fell on my shoulder and I jerked. I turned my head to see Morrigan's amber eyes looking...sympathetic?

     "I've started a fire." his voice was low. "Salem cannot afford to get chilled."

     "T...Thank you, Morrigan." I stammered, shocked yet again by her all too rare kindness. 

     "'Tis no trouble." she shied away, back to the comfort of her shadows. 

     I busied myself with the straps of Salem's armor. "Please wake up." I entreated. "Open your eyes, love."

     She did not stir as I removed her chestplate, bracers, pauldrons, and greaves. I left her armor on the ground. We would gather it later, when she woke... _if she does._ I shook my head, forcing away the thought. 

     I lifted Salem's right arm over my shoulders, preparing to lift her. 

     "Do you need help?" Wynne asked. 

     "No." my tone was too harsh. 

     This was my burden to bear. Somehow, I felt responsible for Salem's injuries. She had always seemed invincible in battle, walking away from enemies and darkspawn hordes without a scratch. Now that she was blind... _and that is my fault. I am to blame for every drop of blood lost, every muscle torn and bone broken. Yet she holds none of this against me. I cannot fathom the depth of her forgiveness._ _  
_

     "Wynne, I apologize." I sighed. 

     "No need, child." her smile held a mother's caring. "I know you are worried."

     I wrapped my arms around Salem and lifted her, carrying her to Morrigan's magic-made fire.  _Trust fate to see to it that such a cold woman be the only one able to conjure flames from stone._

     "Found some furs in the corner." Oghren spread them on the ground in front of the fire. "Thought you could use them."

     "Thank you." I breathed, feeling my throat tighten. 

      _They are all being so kind._ I eased Salem down onto the furs.  _But I know they are doing this for their warden, not for me._

     Morrigan looked up from binding a gash in Zevran's arm. She tossed me a roll of bandages. I caught it, nodding in thanks. 

     "How is she?" the Antivan asked. 

     I tore the cloth Morrigan had given me and soaked it with water. I cleaned the blood from Salem's face, frowning as I noticed that the bruising along her jaw had spread and darkened. "I don't know." I answered, hating the truth of it. 

     "Well," Oghren leaned on the haft of his axe, "if I were a bettin' dwarf, would've put my coin on the giant. I'm shocked she's still breathin'."

     My heart caught in my throat. I could not respond. Oghren had been ragingly drunk that night...the night she died. I knew what he said was some sort of backwards compliment, but that made the situation no better. 

      _Wake up, damn you!_ I fought down tears, focusing on the task at hand. "Wynne, can you help me set her shoulder?"

     "Of course." she crossed to me and smiled. 

     I lifted Salem, bracing her against my body. Wynne took Salem's arm in one hand and placed her other hand on my warden's shoulder. She gave me a nod, and wrenched the limb back in place. Salem's brow creased and I held her close, whispering apologies for causing her pain. 

     "It is a good sign, Leliana." Wynne assured me. "If she is feeling the pain then there is a chance she will wake soon."

     "As you say." I held my warden tighter, wanting to hear her voice; wanting her to lie to me, to tell me that she was all right.  _You stubborn, beautiful fool._

     "I need to see if her right side took any damage." Wynne said, lifting the hem of Salem's shirt. 

     Morrigan watched and her brows lifted. "That looks...unpleasant."

     I looked down; bit my lip in worry. Salem's torso and right side were bruised; dark red and purple blotches mottled her skin. For a moment, I was grateful that she could not feel them. 

      _But when did this happen?_ I wondered.  _What if the injuries go deeper than the skin?_

     "Wynne?" 

      The healer ran her fingers along Salem's ribs. "Two, perhaps three bones are cracked. Nothing is broken, Leliana."

     I lay Salem back down, angry with myself for being unable to do more. My own shoulders ached fiercely, and my fingers, callused as they were, had been sliced open by my bowstring. The damn thing had cut through my gloves and into my skin. 

     "We should rest." I said. "A few hours sleep will do no harm."

     "I will not argue." Wynne sighed, visibly relaxing. 

     Zevran and Morrigan nodded their agreement. Oghren sat down and pulled out his flask, decision made. Sten joined us by the fire. 

     "The bard speaks wisdom." he said. "I will keep watch."

     "You needn't do that." I assured him. I wanted to stay awake and watch over Salem. "I am more than willing."

     "You cannot keep your eyes open." the qunari booked no argument. "All of you are to rest. I myself feel no need."

      _Even the most taciturn of us honors her._ I stroked my warden's hair. "Thank you, Sten."

     He glared at me, then shook his head as though he was amused. He turned to face the tunnels and my companions made themselves as comfortable as they could. 

     I lay down beside my warden, wrapping my arms around her. "I love you, Salem." I kissed her and closed my eyes. 

      _Please be all right._


	19. Painful Healing

**Salem**

_"Are you happy, Salem?"_

_"Happy?" I roll over, laying back in the lush grass and watching clouds pass by overhead. "Immensely so."_

_"Really?" her Orlesian accent whispers in my ear._

_"Of course. The archdemon is dead, Ferelden saved. I'm free to do as I please." I relax, pleased that my swords are not strapped to my back, that my body is free from the weight of armor._

_"And what is it that you desire to do?" her voice lowers, intimating desire._

_"Anything," a slow smile creeps across my face, "so long as I am with you."_

_She laughs and covers my body with hers, mischief sparking in her eyes. "Anything?"_

_"Name your desire, dear heart." I run my fingers through her hair._

_"You, Salem." she kisses me, breathing heat, passion, and longing. "Only you."_

_I return her kiss, abandoning myself to her touch, craving her hands as they trace intricate patterns over my skin..._

* * *

     "She is unconscious still."

      _Cold..._ I shivered... _pain. Wha...where am I? What happened?_

     "I'm worried, Wynne." Leliana...she sounded so very far away. "Shouldn't something have changed by now?"

      _We must still be...in the caverns. Why am I lying down? Did...what happened with Kolgrim?_

     "L—Leli?" I rasped. Pain fissured through my jaw. 

      _Metal...against my face. Kolgrim...struck me. How did I get here?_

     "Salem?" I felt a warm touch on my cheek. "You're freezing."

     I felt her arms around me, lifting me into a sitting position. I gasped as pain radiated through my body. The shivering helped nothing, reminding me of every blow exchanged between me and the mad giant. 

     "Were...you..." the pain in my jaw made it difficult to form the words, "...hurt?"

     Her lips pressed against my forehead. "I am fine." her voice caught and I knew she held back tears. "All of us are well."

     "What..." the dry air caught in my throat and I coughed. Leliana held a canteen to my lips and I drank, wincing as I swallowed. "...happened?"

     "Kolgrim and his men attacked us. When you killed him, the others fled." she explained. I felt her drawn something warm over my body. Grateful, I pressed closer to her. "How are you feeling, love?"

     "Everything hurts." I tried to smile. "Having...trouble breathing."

     "You took several blows to your right side." Leliana explained. "Wynne said you've cracked some of your ribs. I bound them in hopes that they would not break. Can," she hesitated over the question, "can you feel them?"

     "No." I did not know if the answer set her at ease or worried her further. 

      _I wish I could see you,_ I thought for what had to be the thousandth time.  _I want to look into your eyes and tell you that all is well._

     "I'm glad." I could hear the smile. "Kolgrim dislocated your shoulder once again and may have cracked your jaw. I know you can feel that. Are you still cold?"

     "Would you still hold me if I said no?" I asked, determined to assuage the fear I felt in her touch. 

     "Fool." she kissed me again. "Of course I would. But you are not going to like what I must do now. Wynne, she's awake."

      _No. Oh please no. I had hoped the injuries were not so extensive. Maker's breath, must it always come to this?_

     "You were unconscious for half a candlemark, Salem." Wynne came to my side and pressed her fingers to the pulse at my neck. "A concussion is nothing to sneer at. We cannot have you collapsing or thrown off balance in the battles to come."

      _And there are always more battles. No respite for the wicked and even less for the good._

     "I understand." 

     "I am sorry, Salem." Leliana pulled me close. "I know how much you hate this, but it is necessary."

     "Don't...don't let go." I whispered, waiting. 

     Wynne's hand touched my shoulder and I gritted my teeth. Pain speared through my body.  _This is necessary,_ I forced myself to believe as I screamed between clenched teeth,  _I have to endure this...to continue on. Oh, Maker, please make it stop!_

     Leliana wiped sweat from my brow and held me close. I knew that watching this ripped her heart in two. It was part of the reason Wynne had sent her away the night Marjolaine had killed me.  _Leliana,_ I focused my thoughts on her as the flow of magic began to ebb,  _your heart is too kind for your own good. Can you ever forgive me for continuing to hurt it?_

     "Salem?" she asked as I gasped for air. 

     "I'm...all right." I assured her, though it was the furthest thing from the truth. "I'm fine, Leli..." her name was cut short by a cry of pain as Wynne's magic flooded me again. 

     I placed my hand between my teeth, cutting off a scream. Acid coursed through my blood, and my body trembled, muscles spasming as I fought to endure it. Tears that I never wanted to shed, that I never wanted another to see, coursed down my cheeks. 

     "Wynne," Leliana whispered, her voice rough, "stop. She's had enough."

     "No." I grasped my lover's hand with my own. "She isn't finished."

     "Salem," she pleaded with me, "I cannot believe this is helping you. Wynne?"

     "I will admit that your reaction to healing magic is far from the norm." the senior enchanter sounded rattled. "But I can see its effects already. One more spell should be enough. It will not heal you entirely, but it will diminish the pain and remove the risk of further complications from your head injury."

     "Wynne, are you certain?" Leliana argued. "You're still exhausted from the fighting. To over-exert yourself now would be most unwise."

     "I am more than capable of performing a few simple healing spells." the healer assured her. "I have rested and the lyrium has done its work. Salem needs this, Leliana."

     Leliana touched her forehead to mine. "I hate seeing you in pain. You frightened us all, Salem."

      _But you took it the most to heart._ I lifted my chin and pressed my lips to hers, reassuring her. "Once more, then it's done." I whispered. "Wynne, if you please."

     The mage's fingers perched on my jaw and her magic flashed through my body. I held Leliana's hand in a vice grip, holding onto her as my blood boiled in my veins. Unwilling to scream again, I let my tears take over, sobs wracking my body as Wynne's last spell worked its way through. 

     "I'm here." Leliana whispered. "I'm here, my love. Be strong. It will be over soon."

     My back spasmed as the last of the magic faded. "Thank you, Wynne." I breathed. I did not wish the healer to think I was ungrateful for her ministrations. But I had always reacted adversely to healing magic. 

     I laughed as a memory crossed my mind. "Salem, are you well?" Leliana pressed close in worry. 

     "My...my father." I brushed the last of the tears from my cheeks, feeling only a dull ache in my shoulder. "I had fallen from a horse and broken my arm. I refused to see the healer. So, my father told me that if I refused another's aid, I would be forced to set the bone myself. I...I agreed..." I laughed again, remembering the arrogant girl who hid her fear of pain with utterly stupid bravado. 

     "This is not amusing, Salem." Leliana commented, dry. 

     I calmed and settled into her arms. "I did attempt to set the bone." I continued. "And failed. Miserably. I forced the bone through the skin. If I had managed to avoid fainting, I would have been terrified."

     "You are that averse to healing magic?" my bard asked, shock in her tone. 

     "I was then." I chuckled. "I did not know at the time how much need I would have of it. I learned that day. I woke in my bed, with my father glowering at me. Every injury after that, no matter how minor, he made me see the healer. To make me stronger."

     "I still do not see how this warrants laughter." 

     "It did not, at the time." I smiled, though my heart grew heavy. "But there is humor in it now." 

     "Dark humor." she kissed the tip of my nose. "It suits you."

     "Every darkness as its light." I lifted her abused hand to my lips and kissed it. "Sunrise for sunset. Spring for winter. Alistair for Morrigan."

     Leliana choked as her laughter surprised her. She coughed and gasped until her breathing evened. I longed to see the smile I knew she wore. 

     "You for me." I finished the thought. 

     "You are  _my_ light." Leliana insisted. "And I love you. Now rest, Salem. The others are still sleeping and Wynne has retired again."

     She lay back down and pulled me with her. Reluctant, I follwed. Painful as the reality was, I preferred it to the sweetness of the dream. I would wake from dreaming and find it a lie. But this, I reached out and stroked Leliana's hair exactly as she liked, was perfection. 

      _Pure, unadulterated, flawed, painful perfection._

 


	20. Moving Forward

**Leliana**

    "And Flemeth thought this would be good for my constitution." Morrigan sighed as she stuffed supplies into her satchel. "But ever on the move we must be."

     "Feeling the lack of beauty sleep are we?" Zevran teased. "You needn't, Morrigan. Truth be told, you are quite lovely."

     "And it has been how long since you've known a woman's touch?" Morrigan needled, smiling all the while. 

     "You ready, sister?" Oghren glanced at me. 

     "As I will ever be." I sighed, swallowing the last piece of dried fruit with which I had broken my fast.

     "Best wake th' warden, then." he hefted his axe on his shoulder and walked towards the exit. 

      _I do not want to._ I looked down at Salem, feeling my heart beat faster. I did not know if it was with love or fear.  _Watching Wynne heal you...I did not know it caused you such pain. You must be exhausted still._

     "Salem." I whispered, ghosting my lips across her ear. "Salem, love, you need to wake up."

     She jerked in her sleep and I felt very much the villain. How often was it that she had been pulled from slumber by dreams too horrible to fathom? How many times during the course of this mission had she gone sleepless for our rest? 

      _Too many...too many to count. But time marches on, unending. I am sorry that you are the one who must suffer for it._

     "Salem." I called her name again, pressing gently on her uninjured shoulder. "Open your eyes."

     Her breath snapped in and her eyes flared open, seeing nothing. Her hands cast about for her swords; I laced my fingers through hers. 

     "Everything is well." I assured her. "We are preparing to move out."

     She relaxed and I smiled, grateful to see that the dark bruise on her jaw had faded to a sickly yellow and green. Wynne's magic had done its work, despite Salem's adverse reaction. She pinched the bridge of her nose. 

     "How long have we rested?" she asked. 

     "Long enough." I refused to tell her the time. It would only serve to make her push herself harder than she needed to. 

      _You worry for the others, Salem._ I thought as I helped her into her armor.  _Perhaps the Maker sent me to worry for you._

     I tightened the last strap of her damaged pauldron and then strapped her swords to her back. I could hear her berating herself in her mind, decrying her self-perceived uselessness. 

     "Stop that right now." I ordered. 

     "What?" she turned her eyes to mine. 

     I placed my hand against her cheek, careful of her bruises. "Criticizing yourself and hating your limitations. No one could do what you have done, Salem. The Maker chose well when he picked Ferelden's hero. So no more."

     She gave me a lopsided grin and leaned in, placing a kiss on my lips. "As you say."

     Somehow, I felt that those three words, which she said so often, meant something entirely different. "Come." I looked to our companions, finding all of them ready. "They're waiting on us."

     "Well it appears command has not suffered in my absence." she smirked. "I thought bards kept to the shadows."

     "I thought wardens were humorless." I quipped, enjoying her good-natured teasing. 

     Salem laughed, shook her head, and we started off. We exited the caverns and the beauty of the Frostback mountains stole my breath away. They reached high into the air, peaks jagged and sharp as though they had once tried to cut down heaven. The others gazed with me, even Morrigan, captivated by the beauty of this harsh wild.

     "It must be lovely." Salem whispered, sensing our awe. "I wish..." she trailed off, refusing to focus on what she could not have. 

     "There is a path leading to another structrue." I told her, pulling my eyes away from the grandeur. "Perhaps at one time the two were connected."

     "Who can say?" Salem asked a rhetorical question. "All those who would know are dead. Most refuse to believe that this place even exists."

      _It does exist, but we still cannot know if it holds what we seek. How horrible it would be, to have come all this way and shed all this blood for nothing._

     An ear-splitting roar shook the earth. Salem pulled her swords and I saw her wince. 

      _Not another battle,_ I prayed, anxiously searching for what had made the mountains tremble.  _We cannot afford..._

     A fierce wind nearly knocked me to the ground and I gazed up...

     "Andraste's tits!" Oghren shouted. "It's a bloody high dragon!"

     Iridescent violet scales caught the sun and flung it into our eyes. The dragon was larger than any we had seen in the tunnels...larger than any that the legends described. 

      _We cannot defeat a dragon of this size!_ I watched it soar into the mountains and tuck its massive wings around itself. They were large enough to blot the sun from view. 

     "Stay quiet." Salem hissed, but we all heard her. "We have no hope of defeating a dragon in our current state. Where is it?"

     "It's taken to the mountains." Zevran informed her. I still could not speak, by turns terrified and amazed. 

      _I would never have seen such wonders if I had not been betrayed, if my hellish life had not taken me back to my homeland. I would never have fought so hard, known this exhaustion, bear the many scars I have gained on this quest. But..._ I looked to Salem,  _I would also never have known so fierce a love...and so gentle a lover. I am blessed._

     "Move slowly." Salem cautioned, taking the first hesitant steps out of the mouth of the cave. We followed her. I was certain that all of us were begging our respective deities to let us pass in peace.

     "Warden," Sten came up from behind us, "Kolgrim's men have returned."

     "Hells and damnation!" Salem swore. "Morrigan, Zevran, Sten, left side of the tunnels. Wynne, Oghren, Leliana, take the right."

     The others jumped to obey her orders. "And you?" I asked, incredulous. 

     "Me?" she grinned. "We could never coax them out if their appetites are not properly whetted."

     "You cannot do this." I pleaded, wishing she did not feel the constant need to place herself in harm's way.

     "I can, and have. Go, Leliana."

     I frowned. We would have words later.  _Why will you never listen to me? No matter what I say, how I plead, no matter the tears that shine in my eyes, you refuse to hear me and continue to endanger your life._

     I could hear Kolgrim's men rushing through the tunnels. They were few.  _Why have they returned if they know their defeat is certain?_ I wondered, stringing my bow, wincing as my injured fingers protested. 

     They emerged and fixed their eyes on Salem. 

     "Make her known!" the leader shouted. "Let our Lady avenge her Herald!"

      _Wait...what?_ Those were not the words of men bent on revenge at their own hands.  _Who is this lady?_ _I know Kolgrim proclaimed himself the Herald of Andraste reborn but...oh, blessed Maker. No._

The men lifted their bows, but none of the arrows were directed at Salem. My warden stood there, waiting. Waiting for those she trusted to protect her life. 

     "Now!" she shouted, but it was too late. 

     The arrows flew as we attacked. Salem charged forward into the battle and within moments, our few attackers lay dead at our feet. We stood there, bewildered, listening to an eerie, haunting echo. 

     I looked out onto the bridge of snow and rock between us and the door beyond. A gong stood in the middle, a single arrow embedded in the soft brass. The dragon raised its head. 

      _No. Their intention was never to kill us. They believe that the dragon is Andraste...they have worshipped her and fed her the blood of men and women._

     The dragon rose and its roar drowned the echoing of the gong. 

     "Oh, bloody hell." Morrigan groaned. "We have to slay a dragon."


	21. Fire and Blood

**Salem**

     "Salem!" Leliana sounded frantic. "The dragon is descending! We cannot fight it!"

     "I do not think we have much choice in the matter." Sten spoke, the only calm voice among us. 

     The dragon roared and I felt a wash of heat against my face. 

     "It's breathing fire!" Morrigan shrieked. For the first time, I sensed fear in the witch. 

      _Maker, you would choose a dragon to guard your Bride._

     I smiled, even in the hopelessness of the situation. We had no chance of survival. In fact, I felt certain most of us would not leave this battle alive. But it was a fight we could not escape; a situation I could not talk my way out of. 

     "Keep your wits!" I shouted, becoming the woman they needed me to be. Harsh, cold, sure of victory in spite of all odds. "Wynne, Morrigan, Leliana, stay back and fire everything you have. Sten, Oghren, and Zevran, go for its legs; keep it off balance."

     Burrow barked, displeased with having been given no orders. "I'm going for its neck, boy." I patted his head. "Keep its teeth away from me."

     Another bark; an agreement. 

     I gripped my swords.  _I'm so sorry, Alistair,_ I apologized to my brother warden, even though he would never hear it.  _Please forgive me._

     "It will not stand there forever, Salem!" Morrigan shouted. "Do  _something!_ "

     I wanted to say farewell to Leliana. I wanted to hold her in my arms and kiss her once more. But there was no time for that.  _Keep her safe,_ I prayed as I rushed forward, listening for any change in the dragon's movement. 

     Burrow remained by my side, a true mabari, steadfast even in the face of certain death. "Keep safe!" Zevran shouted as he darted past me. 

      _You as well._ I smiled again, thankful that I had been given such strong companions. Burrow barked in warning and I stepped to the side. Sulfuric breath assaulted my senses as the dragon's teeth snapped not a foot away from me. I reached out with my blades, trying to catch the tender skin under its neck, one of the few places a dragon could be pierced. 

     Flames spewed from its mouth. A whorl of fire kissed along my cheek, leaving sharp pain in its wake. 

     "Damn it!" I swore, rolling under its neck, striking out. Steel clanged, usesless, against the dragon's scales. 

     "Warden," Sten called, "your left!"

     I darted to the right, slammed to the ground by the force of the dragon's jaw as it snapped at me again. 

     I heard Oghren swear as the dragon lashed out at him. The dwarf's armor tangled with mine as our bodies collided. 

      _I do not think a single one of us will survive._

     "Oghren!" I yelled. "On your feet! Now!"

     He swore and fought his way up from the ground as Burrow deflected the dragon's head. Suddenly, I could not feel the sun. The wings pounded down and the earth groaned as the dragon's weight left it. 

     "He's going for the mages!" Zevran screamed. 

      _Leliana!_  

     I bounded to my feet and ran for the high ground, knowing I would not get there before the dragon did. 

      _I will kill this thing,_ I swore.  _If it touches one hair on her head I will flay it alive, even if I must die from it._

     The dragon's landing forced me to collapse to my knees, so hard I could feel them bruise through my armor.  _What good is this heavy plate if it does not stop injury from being caused?_ I questioned, dodging the dragon's spined back leg as it kicked out at me like a horse would swat an annoying fly.  _Not far enough..._ I winced as its talons collided against my armor on my right side. Metal shrieked as the dragon's talons sliced through it. 

      _This should hurt._ I realized, finding myself once more on the ground.  _I do not even know if any damage is done. On your feet, Salem._

     Again, I found my balance. I heard the others behind me, harrying the dragon, trying to wound its soft underbelly. I did not even know if we had made the creature bleed yet. 

     "Leliana!" I cried, begging her to answer me as I avoided the dragon's constant shifting and the swipes of its talons. 

     An arrow whistled past my ear in answer.  _She's alive._ I felt dizzy and my shoulder throbbed. "Drive it back!" I shouted the order. 

     "It's not moving!" Zevran replied. 

     The dragon growled deep in its belly and I knew what it meant to do. "Wynne, Morrigan, shields!" I called, hoping they would hear. 

     Flame burst from the dragon's mouth and I staggered back from the wash of heat. Taking advantage of the dragon's distracted state, I plunged upward with my swords, feeling them pierce through its skin. I stepped back, pulling them with me, trying to disembowel the beast. 

      _Not good enough!_

     The dragon reared on its hind legs, wrenching itself off of my swords. I ducked as it crashed back down, going to my knees once again. Hot, acidic dragon's blood dripped onto my armor, melting the metal. I cried out as I felt my back begin burning. 

     I clawed my way out from under the dragon, swearing. "Everything...about...this... _fucking_...dragon...is...lethal!" I muttered. 

      _And if my armor is melted by its blood, then my swords are too. Damn it!_

     I left my blades on the ground, knowing they were useless.  _Almost as useless as a blind warden._

     The dragon's head swooped around. Burrow whimpered as he tried to deflect it and was cast aside, a high yelp echoing through the mountains as he was struck. I tried to get to my feet and failed. The dragon lifted me in its mouth, teeth grating against armor. I felt nothing but calm. 

      _Father, Mother,_ I smiled,  _it will be good to see them again. Forgive me, Leliana. I tried._

     An arrow shrieked past my ear and buried itself somewhere in the dragon's head. The creature wailed and my ears went numb. Weightless, floating sensation...the dragon had tossed me from its mouth.  _Dead one way or another._

     I landed, feeling the breath forced from my lungs. I lay there, gasping as the ground moved beneath me.  _Nothing broken?_ I wondered.  _How am I still alive...wait...I must be on the dragon's back! I have one chance._

_Maker, give me strength._


	22. Wars and Wounds

**Leliana**

     _This creature is far more dangerous than Flemeth in dragon form!_ I thought, nocking another arrow.  _My arrows will not even penetrate its hide!_

     I watched as Burrow harried the dragon, trying to keep its razor sharp teeth from Salem's body. I pulled back as the dragon raised its head, aiming for the neck. I let the arrow fly, cursing as the dragon moved and my arrow bounced off of its scales, harmless. 

     Morrigan planted her staff in the ground and I watched spikes of ice encircle the dragon's talons. The witch sagged against her weapon. 

     "Morrigan!" I shouted, watching her eyelids flutter. 

     "Don't concern yourself with me, songstress." she snapped, acerbic as ever. "'Twill be quite a while before I declare defeat."

      _Not so far off as you might think._ I set another arrow, uncomfortable as I felt the lightness of my quiver. I had too few arrows left. They might not last the battle. 

     "Withdraw!" Wynne called and I saw the dragon lift its wings. 

     The three of us retreated as the dragon crashed down. I bent my knees, anticipating the trembling of the earth. Wynne pitched forward and Morrigan caught her before she fell. The others rushed the dragon from behind, Salem in the lead. 

      _Still alive_ , I smiled, pulling back on my bow. The muscles in my shoulder wept with tension and my fingers stung. The dragon's hind leg kicked out and my warden fell. I held my breath until she got to her feet and sneaked beneath the dragon's body. 

     "Leliana!" she shouted my name. 

     I fired the arrow, not wishing to attract the dragon to my voice. It sang past Salem's ear and buried itself in the crease of the dragon's thigh.  _I am the only one with a bow. She will know I'm alive._ At least, I hoped that she would. 

     "Wynne, Morrigan!" Salem's voice rang clear through the mountains. "Shields!"

     The mages lifted their staffs and a deep blue barrier spread out before us as the dragon unleashed hellfire from its mouth. I could feel the heat through the magic, more ancient and powerful than the lava that bubbled beneath the earth. This flame sought to scour the air, boil the blood, char the skin. It was rage and death and fury and it had been aimed at us. 

     Sweat beaded on my brow and trickled down my face. The shields began to falter as the fire died. Wynne pulled spikes of ice from the earth and flung them against the dragon, who screeched its fury. Salem used the distraction to bury her swords in the dragon's underbelly. 

      _Be safe!_ I set one of my few remaining arrows and bided my time, waiting for my shot. I kept my eyes on Salem, more concerned for her safety in this moment. The right side of her armor was torn, but I could not see beyond that. 

     The dragon reared on its hind legs and the three of us backed away, this time anticipating the thunder of its full return to earth. The stone cracked beneath our feet and I watched Salem crawl out from under the dragon. Time seemed to slow as I saw Burrow launch himself at the beast and be knocked away into the snow. The gaping maw opened, all teeth and viciousness. 

     I heard the sound of armor crunching and watched Salem be lifted in the demon's mouth.  _No._ I felt ice through my veins.  _I will not lose her! Not to this!_

     I swung my bow up and drew back on the string, letting the arrow loose. It flew straight, piercing the dragon's eye. The beast roared and tossed its head, freeing Salem from its jaws as it tried to dislodge the arrow. My warden's body crashed onto the dragon's back. I could no longer see her, but at least now we had a chance. 

      _According to the tales,_ I set another arrow, _dragons have four weak points. Beneath the neck, where the fire gland lies, the underbelly where they grow no scales, the eyes, and the crown of its head, between its horns. If Salem keeps her wits about her, she can end its life. We need only hold out a little longer._

     "Hey, ugly!" Oghren shouted, hacking at the dragon's hamstrings. "Over here!"

     The dragon spun and I dropped to the ground as its spiked tail hissed past us, praying that Wynne and Morrigan had been fortunate enough to dodge the attack as well. I lay prone on the ground, re-setting the arrow against the string, firing at the dragon's exposed underbelly. 

     The arrow struck true and the dragon jerked, as I had desired. Salem scrambled further up its back; the dragon's movement keeping it from sensing hers.  _Where are her swords?_  I spared myself a brief moment for thought. 

     Steam rose from the ground where the dragon's blood puddled. The massive beast wheeled again, and before I could move, I found myself face to face with the dragon's bleeding eye. I stepped back, dropping my bow and pulling my daggers as I stared into the face of death. 

      _In the tales, the dragonslayers go into battle without fear and conquer the beast. They do not mention the stench of sulfur, the acidic blood, and teeth made of blades. Maker forgive me. I have failed you...and Salem. I will wait for you, my love,_ I promised her as the dragon's mouth opened,  _in the life after._

     I braced for the explosion of heat, the brief stench of burnt flesh I knew I would smell before my world went dark. Nothing happened. I dared to open my eyes...

     Salem sat astride the dragon's neck, grinning like a fool. Her knife was buried in the dragon's skull...between the horns. Dark blood bubbled from the wound and my warden paled and shrieked. She slid from the dragon's body as it began to thrash in the throes of death. I lost sight of my warden as I dove away from the dragon as it uttered one last, horrendous ululation. The screech split the air and the stone beneath our feet cracked yet further. With a terrifying groan, the dragon sagged, its neck lolled as it crashed in an inglorious heap.

     I waited in the silence, stunned.  _We just...how...it's **dead.** It is truly dead._ 

     I sought out my companions. Zevran popped out of a snowdrift, laughing, drunk with victory. His neck and shoulder armor had been burned, but other than that he looked no worse for wear. Sten emerged from the other side of the dragon, glaring at his sword. The metal had been eaten into by the dragon's blood, rendering the blade useless. The qunari shed his chest plate and I saw the tear in his shirt, stained with blood. 

     "Are you well?" I asked as he brushed past me.

     "A scarce graze from a talon." he grumbled. "The only thing that gives this wound honor is that a dragon dealt it."

      _Trust him to find something to be grumpy about._ My knees threatened to buckle under the strain my body had just been through. I shored them up. Oghren scrambled up the dragon's back, cackling like a mad-man.

     "Food fer days!" he crowed, planting his axe and drawing his flask in victory. "Drinks all 'round!"

     Wynne rose with assistance from her staff. "Have we made it through?" she sounded disoriented. 

     Burrow bounded up to me, tongue lolling out, stub tail wagging with joy. One of his ears had been burned off and a weal of dragonfire had grazed his side, but the mabari was heedless of his injuries. 

     "Good boy." I praised him, scratching the back of his neck. "Thank you for keeping her safe."

      _Salem, why must you have it a habit to disappear after every battle?_

     "Wynne!" Salem called, and relief flooded me at the sound of her voice. "Leliana! I need you here!"

     I forced my body to move in the direction of Salem's voice. I stopped when I reached her, frozen in horror. Salem knelt beside Morrigan, pressing her hands to a wound in the witch's abdomen. Crimson flowed over my warden's skin. 

     "Morrigan!  _Morrigan! Stay_   **awake!** " Salem's voice was ungentle, harsh...cold as the Frostback mountains themselves. "Do you hear me,  _witch!_ Say something!" She pressed down on the hole in the witch's body, trying to stop the bleeding. 

     "You..." Morrigan's voice crept out, barely above a whisper. "...bitch."

     "Good. Good." Salem urged. 

     I dropped to my knees beside them, all dark feelings against the witch forsaken. 

     "What can I do?" I asked. It did not matter how this had happened. What mattered was that Morrigan's skin was the color of snow and that blood trickled from her mouth. 

      _The dragon's tail...she must not have been able to avoid it._

     "I can't see her injuries." Salem said, her voice just shy of panic. "Please try to stop the bleeding."

     My warden withdrew and I took over, cringing as I felt the torn edges of Morrigan's skin against my hands. Wynne joined me and did not even bother with questions. Her hands ignited with magic and she forced it into Morrigan's body. The witch groaned through her teeth. 

     "You are going to be all right." Salem said, an order, not a soft reassurance such as she would have saved for me. "Wynne and Leliana are with you."

     "A...Chantry...tart." Morrigan's breath hitched, "and a...Circle mage. I feel...so reassured."

     "Oghren!" Salem yelled at the dwarf. "Get back in the tunnels and find their stores! The cultists had to keep warm somehow! We need a fire! Zevran, Sten, set up camp in the cavern!"

     "Salem, she cannot be moved in her condition." Wynne advised, looking up at my warden with exhausted eyes. "Her spine might be damaged, bones broken."

     "Then heal her to where she can be moved." Salem growled and I drew back, almost afraid. 

     Wynne pursed her lips and focused her magic into Morrigan's body. I felt the flow of blood slow and I prayed it was a good sign. The mage's body trembled. 

     "I...cannot...sustain this." Wynne's magic flickered. "I am afraid naught but traditional methods are left to us."

     "Then we get her out of the elements." Salem's voice gentled. For all her ferocity, she would push none of us but herself beyond our limits. "Are the two of you all right?"

     "Minor wounds." Wynne spoke for both of us. "And utter exhaustion."

     Salem fought with the straps of her armor, at last getting her chestplate free. She placed the metal on the ground. "Use this to stabilize her back." she said. 

     "Salem!" I gasped. Her shirt was torn apart, her entire right side painted scarlet. 

     Blind eyes burned fierce against mine, an unholy silver-blue. "Help. Morrigan." her voice was stone. "I'll collapse later. 


	23. Insults and Injuries

**Salem**

    Morrigan's anguished groan ripped at me as Wynne and Leliana propped her up and cradled her back in my destroyed armor. 

      _One battle,_ I seethed.  _Could we not have one battle where we walk away relatively unscathed?_

     "Salem, I need your help." Leliana called to me. "Wynne is exhausted. Can you help me carry Morrigan into the cavern?"

     I walked towards her voice and knelt down, casting my hands about in the snow until I felt the edges of my chestplate. I nodded and waited for Leliana.

     "Now." she ordered.

     My shoulders and back protested as we lifted the witch. Morrigan screamed and it echoed through the mountains. 

     "Really, witch?" I taunted her as we moved, trying to keep her awake. "What would Flemeth say if she heard  _that_?"

     "Damn...you." Morrigan whimpered.

      _Good. Still conscious._ "Damn me?" I asked. "You could not cast a spell if you tried. Wait until the rumors spread. A feared witch of the wilds brought to tears by a flesh wound? Your Korcari paradise is going to be overrun when all who hear no longer fear you."

     "Don't...breathe...a  _word_." Morrigan managed to make her tone threatening. 

     I smiled. "Not breathing words, Morrigan." the air gathered around us, thicker, warmer. We had moved inside. "Shouting from the tops of castles. Royal proclamations cried out in the streets. The witch of the wilds is a weak, pathetic, mewling  _kitten_."

     Morrigan stirred and fought our hold. "Going...to... _end you!_ "

     "Good." I encouraged her. "Hold on to that anger, Morrigan. Keep it with you."

     The witch breathed in short, jerking gasps.  _You're going to make it through this. I swore I would not lose a single one of you and I intend to follow that through. I did not kill your mother for nothing, Morrigan. Stay alive._

     "Over this way." Leliana guided me. "Oghren's found some wood and built a fire."

     Wynne moved in front of us. "Bring her here." she dictated. I followed Leliana's lead as the mage guided her to the fire. We eased Morrigan to the ground and Wynne moved me out of the way. 

     "You're underfoot, warden." she said. "Leliana, I need water and bandages. Also, there is a needle and silk thread in my bag. I will have to stitch the wound closed."

     Leliana moved away and I knelt beside the healer. I would not be tossed aside, not when someone I cared for was grappling with eternity. 

     "Wynne, how is she?" I asked. 

     "Not well, warden." the senior enchanter informed me, terse. "What little magic I had left was focused on her internal injuries. I can only hope it was enough to stop the bleeding. Most of her ribs are cracked or broken, her spine may be as well. Leliana, where is that water?"

     "Here." Leliana answered. "Oghren found an entire cache of supplies. I have bandaging and herbs as well. Zevran is hanging a pot over the fire now and is melting snow and ice. Our water stores are low."

     Wynne said nothing; I assumed she was too focused on Morrigan's injuries. 

     "Thank you, Leliana." I said in the mage's stead.

     "Morrigan," Wynne spoke to the witch, "can you hear me?"

     "What...do you...want?" Morrigan hissed between clenched teeth. 

     "I'm going to clean your wounds." Wynne informed her. "It will not be pleasant. You will, more than likely, lose consciousness."

      _She might be forced into the Fade,_ I brushed Morrigan's hair from her face, though I knew she hated physical affection.  _In her weakened state, that could go very, very wrong._

     "S...Salem?" Morrigan asked. "Don't...let her...kill me."

     I laughed under my breath. "I swear to you, you are in the best of care." I assured her. The time for tormenting her was done. She would be safe here. "Conserve your strength."

     Morrigan reached out, her subconscious, human need for physical touch manifesting itself. I took her hand in my undamaged one, hoping that Leliana would understand. This was not attraction, or love. It was care, comfort...a different sort of love, and one that my bard and this witch had known all too little. 

     Morrigan's fingers were cold, and her hand trembled. "Leliana, elevate her legs." Wynne ordered. "The blood loss is sending her into shock. That is something we must prevent. And fetch me a lyrium draught. There should be a few left in my pack."

     "Are you certain that is wise?" I asked. "Too much of that and you'll be in worse shape than Morrigan."

     "I know my limits, Salem." Wynne snapped. 

     I did not care. We were all under an immense amount of strain. "As you say."

     Morrigan's fingers went lax in mine. She had lost consciousness at last. I sighed, grateful that she was out of pain. 

     Wynne began cleaning the deep puncture in Morrigan's abdomen, asking Leliana for aid every now and again. I listened to the witch's uneven breaths before moving away and leaning against a distant wall, allowing the battle-fever to wash out of my system. My own hands began shaking, the one that had pierced the dragon's skull beginning to burn fiercely. 

     The dragon's blood had fountained over my hand when I had plunged my now-ruined knife into its brain. Most of my gauntlet had been melted away and the skin on my right hand was blistered and raw. I did not know how many layers of skin had been stripped away. 

     My shoulder throbbed unmercifully, every heartbeat sending pain pounding through my body. I sat back and inhaled, feeling a deep ache in my lungs.  _My ribs were cracked in the fight with Kolgrim. Hopefully the battle with the dragon made them no worse. Maker,_ I buried my head in my functional left hand, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to push away the headache I could feel building behind my eyes,  _I am sick of being injured and in pain. Ever since the tower of Ishal, some part of my body has been damaged. I no longer remember what it feels like to be whole. If my mother could see me now..._

     Burrow nudged my elbow and I wrapped my arm about his body. He could always sense when I thought of home. "If mother could see me now," I scratched the scruff of his neck with my good hand, "she would toss me out on my ear. I do not think she would even recognize me."

      _I'm so tired._ I tried to pull my mangled gauntlet off; abandoned the attempt as agony shredded through my nerves. The soothing scent of Antivan leather greeted me as Zevran sat down. 

     "Good fight, warden." he said, zeal and excitement lighting his voice. "Imagine the taverns now, beautiful women clinging to us as we show our battle scars and tell tales of how we brought down a dragon."

      _Show our battle scars,_ I scoffed internally.  _Perhaps I should remain blind and never have to look on this body again._

     "I'm glad you are all right." I told him. "But if this tale is to have any glory, we must all come out alive."

     "I am worried for the witch as well." Zevran placed a hand on my shoulder. "Morrigan is in the best of hands."

     "I know." I could smell his singed hair and flesh. "Wynne has an ointment for burns. You'd do well to use some."

     "Right you are." Zevran handed me a canteen. "Drink something, Salem. It will do you good."

     "Thank you." I let the water cool my abused throat and leaned back against the wall. I knew that, if I could see, the room would have been spinning. My muscles screamed as I tried to ease the tension from them. 

      _I think,_ my eyes closed and nothing changed,  _I will rest...a little while._


	24. Those Who Suffer in Silence

**Leliana**

    Wynne took a small blade from her belt and cut the thread.  _She should be sewing robes for young mages at this time in her life,_ I thought,  _not stitching together the skin of fallen warriors. This Age is a cruel one. Wars, Blights, slavery running rampant, unrest in the Circle of Magi. Change is dawning at a furious pace. I wonder, will we all be burned by this new rising sun?_

     "How is she?" I looked to Morrigan. 

     "Her position is precarious at best." Wynne nodded in thanks as I handed her a relatively clean square of cloth. She wiped sweat and grime from her face. "Leliana, I...I have to rest. If Morrigan should wake, do not let her move. I could do no repair to her ribs, and her spine is bruised, though not broken, thank the Maker. She will be in an immense amount of pain when she wakes. There are herbs in my pack..."

     "I remember." I rested my hand on her shoulder. "Get some rest, Wynne. Is there anything else Morrigan needs?"

     "For the moment, no." Wynne replied. "Leli..."

     "You're falling asleep on your feet." I stalled her. "Rest."

     "But," Wynne argued, even as her eyelids fluttered, "Salem. She was hurt."

     "I will take care of Salem." I promised her. "You must take care of yourself first. It will do you no good to burn out."

     Wynne lay down beside the fire, smiling. "You sound like your warden." she mumbled as her eyes closed. 

      _Thank you for that, Wynne. Pleasant dreams. And on the note of my warden..._ I rose to my feet, looking at the open jar of burn ointment, the few remaining bandages, Wynne's healer's bag with her needle and silk. I prayed I would not need to use it. 

     I found Salem leaning against the wall of the cavern. Her eyes were closed and I took a moment to look at her, smiling. 

      _We have made it this far, my love. Because of you. You brought down a city of madmen and went from thence to slay a dragon. If anyone is worthy of the Urn, it is you, Salem Cousland. My heart._

     I knelt beside her and ran my fingers through her hair. My brow furrowed as I saw the terrible burn across her cheek, a black and crimson smear. I placed my fingertips near it, feeling the heat from the wound. 

      _It will leave an impressive scar,_ I frowned.  _But she will always wear a highly visible reminder of this battle. I am sorry, love. I wish I could take this from you._

     "Salem." I whispered, hesitant to wake her. "Salem, love, I need you to wake up."

     She did not stir. 

     "Salem." louder this time, worry forcing my heart to beat faster. Still no response. "Salem, wake up."  _Not again, not again, dear Maker, do not make me live through this again._ "Salem!" I tapped her un-burnt cheek, hissing as my fingers protested. 

     "Wha..." her words faded out on a groan. "Leli?"

     "Yes." I breathed a sigh of relief, watching her eyelids flutter shut. "Salem, stay awake."

     "I'm 'wake." her words slurred and her eyes would not open. "Cold."

     "I know, love, I know. Please, forgive me, but..."

     "Morrigan took precedence." Salem shook her head, forcing her eyes open. "I'm all right, Leliana. I swear."

     "You're not." her shirt was torn, the material soaked with blood.  _How much has she lost?_ "I need to get you beside the fire. Are you able to walk?"

     She paused, cataloguing her injuries. "Yes."

     Salem wrapped her arm about my shoulders and I helped her to her feet, taking most of her weight as she sagged against me.  _I should have seen to you sooner,_ I berated myself.  _But we were all so concerned for Morrigan, and Wynne was so tired...I forgot you, Salem. I **forgot** you._  

     I eased Salem to the ground, beside the fire, not at all pleased with her color. Her eyes looked bruised; sweat sheened her face, and her skin looked waxy and wan. I grabbed my satchel and tucked it underneath Salem's head. She smiled at me in thanks. 

     "Where are you hurt?" I asked, tearing off pieces of bandaging and wetting them in the pot of water that Zevran had melted and let boil. 

     I could see Salem's burned cheek and the blood that soaked her side. I hoped that was the extent of the damage. 

     "My hand and back...burned by dragon's blood." Salem extended her right hand to me and I bit my lip.

     The metal of her gauntlet had been melted, and I could see the remnants of it sticking to her blackened skin. Blood oozed through the macabre cracks in her flesh. I dreaded removing the gauntlet, knowing it would take a great deal of skin with it. 

      _She needs magical healing,_ I thought, feeling the weight of despair crash in on me.  _Or Wynne's experienced touch. More than I can do for her._

     Salem laid her hand back down, wincing. "I...I think my side may have been hurt. I know my armor was torn but I do not know if the talons caught skin."

     "They did." 

     My hands trembled as I lifted what was left of her shirt, wincing as it clung to her skin with the stickiness of drying blood. I poured water on the cloth, loosening it, wishing I had left it be when I surveyed the three jagged slash marks. They began at her side and curved across her stomach, under her breast, stopping at her breastbone. A lump formed in my throat and tears pricked my eyes. 

      _Keep yourself grounded, Leliana._ I ordered.  _You cannot afford to give into your emotions._

     "How bad?" my warden asked. 

     "Three cuts. All of them will require stitching." I answered, trying to distance my mind from the situation. 

     I was not Wynne. I could not do this. I could not separate my mind from the knowledge that the woman I loved lay before me, her skin torn open and bleeding. And that I had disregarded her injuries in favor of a woman I did not even care about. 

     I removed the bandages from the water and began cleaning her wounds with a gentle touch, afraid to put too much pressure on them. It did not matter that I knew she could not feel it. Tears blurred my vision as I washed away the dried blood from the wounds and saw the rough edges of her skin, the bits of sheared metal embedded in the wounds. I picked it out, shard by shard, wiping away the bright red beads of blood that swelled up in place of the metal. 

     "Leliana," Salem reached up with her left hand and wrapped her fingers around my wrist, squeezing gently, "thank you. I'm sorry."

     The words, said in a whisper, broke my heart. I strangled my tears and leaned down, kissing her forehead, tasting her sweat. "Salem..."

     "It's all right." she breathed. 

     "It is the furthest thing from right." I said, but I could not tell her the reason. 

     I could not tell her that I had forgotten her. That I had left her to bleed out and freeze while I worried over Morrigan. I could not tell her that my throat was tight with unshed tears, that it was pure torture to see her weak and bleeding, and that I despised her for being so strong through all of this. 

     I threaded Wynne's needle with shaking hands, wincing as I began to stitch Salem's skin together. I knew she could not feel the prick of the needle or the thread scraping through her skin, but that did nothing to assuage my guilt. 

      _I can do nothing for you but this. I cannot alleviate your pain. I cannot heal you with magic. I survived this battle with relatively few injuries. My fingers are cut, my muscles strained, but that is the extent of it. Why is it never me, Salem? I would take this from you if I could...Maker's blood, you are **blind** and still you insist on rushing into battle. I do not  **care** that you are able to do so...I care that you come back to me. And every fight it seems you are injured worse and worse. It breaks my heart._  

     We remained silent as I continued and, at last, finished stitching her wounds. I tied off the thread and cut it, placing the needle and spool of silk back in Wynne's satchel. 

     "Salem," my voice had gone hoarse from exhaustion. "I need you to sit up."

     "Help me, please." she sounded uncharacteristically weak.

     "Of course." I lifted her, supporting her body as I wrapped the stitched wounds with fresh bandages. 

     Her back had been burned by the dragon's blood, leaving a horrid mess of charred skin and melted metal. Once more I reached into Wynne's satchel and removed her sharp, angled healer's knife. I stared at its keen edge and I hated myself. 

     "Salem..." my voice caught, and I forced myself to go on, "the dragon's blood...melted your armor to your skin. I have to cut away the metal or the wounds will fester."

     "Do what you must." Salem whispered, her left hand feeling around the ground until she found a roll of bandages. 

     She tucked it between her teeth and nodded. I rested the sharp blade beneath the mass of charred skin and began to cut away the pieces of skin the melted metal had adhered to. Salem's body went rigid, her spine wire tight, her head hanging. Strangled sounds of anguish broke through the gag and my hands began to tremble as my composure frayed. The blade wavered in my grasp and I fought to control it as I finished what needed doing and slathered the wounds with Wynne's burn salve and healing herbs. 

     The rigidity left Salem's back as the herbs began their work and the gag dropped from between her lips as she gasped for air. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to hold her through the pain wracking her body, but I could barely keep a grip on sanity at the moment. I bandaged the burns on her back, trying to keep my touch gentle. 

     "Bless you." Salem rasped and I bit my tongue to keep from sobbing. 

      _You make this so difficult!_ _How can you show gratitude for this? I am **hurting** you!  **Feel** it! Maker's breath... **no one** is this strong._

"You need to lie down." I said, concerned that her skin had gone yet another shade of white. "I need to see to your hand."

       _Ask me not to. Please. Ask to be spared the pain, as any normal, **sane** , warrior would._ 

     I wrapped my hands around Salem's shoulders and helped her lie on her side so that the burns on her back would not pain her further. Her jaw tightened and she moaned as the movement aggravated her injuries. 

     "Please, forgive me, Leliana." she whispered as I took her damaged right hand in mine. 

     "There is nothing to forgive." I whispered, tears slipping free from my eyes as I lifted the roll of bandaging and held it to her lips. "This is going to hurt."

     "I know." she replied, accepting the gag once more between her teeth without protest. 

     I took a deep breath, whispering a prayer and closing my eyes as I held her forearm in one hand and ripped the gauntlet off with the other. Salem struggled to tear her arm away but I held it firm, trying to ignore the muffled sobs of pain, the spasming of her injured fingers as raw, blistered skin was exposed to the air. Her other hand clawed into the earth as her entire body contorted in reaction to what must have been agony. 

     "It will be finished soon." I promised as I took Wynne's blade in hand, once more cutting away the ruined skin, unable to avoid nicking her hand in places as it twitched without her control. 

     Soft whimpers of pain broke through her gag and I loathed myself as I smeared the salve over her ravaged skin and bound her hand and fingers with healing herbs and bandages. Salem spat the gag out, her lips working back and forth in soundless curses. I set her hand down and took more herbs, powdered willowbark, valerian, and elfroot, mixing them into a cup of water. 

     I laced my hand around her neck and lifted her head, touching the cup to her lips. "Drink, love." I urged, wincing as the burn across her cheek split with the movement of her lips. 

      _Let me at least try to ease your pain and give you respite. I have failed you in so many ways this day. Yet you ask for my forgiveness. If this continues...I do not know if I will be able to endure it._

     Salem finished drinking and I set the cup aside, taking the last of Wynne's burn salve and spreading it across her cheek.

     "I love you." Salem reached up with her good hand and tangled her fingers in my hair. "So much."

      _Don't say that! You...you have **no** idea what I've done to you!_

     "I...I love you too." tears choked my voice and I let them fall as I cleaned the grime from her face, further illuminating her dangerous pallor. "Sleep, my love. You need rest."

     "So...do you." her word slurred with drowsiness.

     "I have to remain awake, in case Morrigan..."

     A warm hand landed on my shoulder. "I will watch over her." Zevran promised. "The warden is right, Leliana. You have been caring for us all."

     I brushed the tears from my cheeks and hid my face from the Antivan. "Thank you, Zevran."

     I felt humbled by his offer, as I had been by Sten's. My guilt told me to refuse, that I needed to punish myself for leaving Salem to the barbaric mercy of her injuries. 

     "Stop...that." Salem whispered, her uninjured hand caressing my cheek. "Now."

      _Salem,_ I took her hand in mine,  _you know my heart better than I do. Please, forgive me._

     "Sleep, Leliana." Zevran sat down between Salem and Morrigan, an unfathomable kindness in his eyes. "Sten, Oghren, and myself will keep watch in shifts. It has been agreed. No one will lack for rest, I assure you."

     I lay down beside Salem, longing to wrap my arms around her, pull her body close to mine, feel her breath, savor her warmth. But I could not. I would not risk aggravating her injuries and...I did not feel I deserved to touch her. A soft sigh left my lips, and Salem reached out, resting her hand on my thigh. 

     Through closed eyes, I cried myself to sleep.


	25. Silence Shattered

**Salem**

     I woke to the sound of crackling sparks as someone added wood to the fire. Out of reflex, I opened my eyes. 

     "How long?" I rasped, coughing in the dry air of the mountains.

      _So much has happened. I had intended to end this quest the same day it began. Alistair must be worried sick. Damn it._ _  
_

     "'Bout a half-day, by my reckon." Oghren's voice greeted me. 

      _Too long._

     I forced myself to sit up, feeling my back, cheek, and hand protest. Leliana had stitched together the wounds I could not feel, and for once I was grateful for the healing that had gone wrong and numbed me entirely. I touched my right side, feeling the rough linen of the bandaging. I pressed my hand against it, still unable to feel anything. 

      _A small favor, I suppose._ I smiled at the inadvertent grace I had been given. 

     "How is Morrigan?" I asked the dwarf. 

     "Still sleepin'." he answered, gruff. "Yer bard took a look a little while ago. Said nothin' seemed out of the ord'nary."

     "Leliana?" I asked. She had fallen asleep by my side which now was...cold. "Oghren, where is she?"

     "Think she went to the mouth of the cave." I heard the dull clank of metal followed by the scent of stout grain alcohol. Oghren drank and belched. "Somethin' 'bout watchin' the sunset or some damn nonsense. Can't say as I understand yer taste, warden."

      _Leliana was not emotionally or mentally well when we went to sleep,_ I thought as I fought to remove my greaves. It would be much easier to walk without them.  _She should not be alone. Not right now. I have to go to her._

     "You shouldn't be doin' that." Oghren said and I smiled, knowing thr words had been put in his mouth. 

     "I will be sure to inform Leliana that you attempted to stop me." I told him. He snorted and went back to his drinking. "Now give me a hand with this damn armor." 

     Attempting to undo the buckles and straps with my one functional hand was next to impossible, and any attempt to use my burned right hand ended in agonizing discomfort. 

     Oghren shambled over, his breath smelling of whiskey when he knelt down and had the straps sorted in no time at all. I sighed in relief as he removed the heavy greaves and set them aside. 

     "Thank you, Oghren." He muttered something and returned to his seat. 

     Burrow padded up, thrust his nose into my neck, and whined. I judged that Leliana had given him the same orders as she had Oghren. I scrached my mabari's head, briefly trailing my fingers over the singed fur there, frowning as I felt the stub of his missing ear.

     "Looks like we all have some battle scars to brag about, eh boy?" I asked him. "When all this is over, you'll be king of the kennel. Every lady mabari is going to want you, Burrow, the dragonslayer, to sire her pups. How does that sound?"

     He yipped and wagged his stub of a tail until his entire body shook with excitement. I laughed and flung my left arm across his shoulders. 

     "Help me up, boy?" I asked. 

     His body went rigid and I knew he would not move without my giving him leave.  _Thank you, Burrow. We're the only Couslands left. I am glad you're still with me. And, when we are finished with this, I swear I am going to feed you steak every day._ _  
_

     I got to my feet with Burrow's aid and my burned back and bruised knees screamed. Ignoring them, I walked what seemed an interminable distance to the opening of the cave. I stopped, inhaling the crisp air of the mountains. It smelled of sulfur, a reminder of the battle with the dragon. 

      _I cannot believe we survived._ I thought, letting my shoulders relax. 

     The cultists, no doubt, thought we were dead. If they did return, they would see their lady fallen. With their god dead, they would lose their resolve, making their lives no longer worth taking. 

     A soft sound drew me further outside. I walked towards it, clinging to the mountainside for support. I knew that voice...those tears. Even in the midst of battle, I would be able to hear them. I reached the point where they were loudest, and knelt in the snow, resting my hand on my lover's shoulder. 

     "Leliana."

     "Don't touch me!" she hissed, shoving my hand from her body. "Do not look at me; do not speak!"

     She stood and her footsteps away from me crunched in the snow. I pulled myself up against the mountain, troubled. She had never spoken to me like this, with grief and rage so evident in her voice. 

     "If it is any consolation, dear heart, I cannot actually look at you." I cursed myself as I said the words. 

     My mother had tried to break me of levity. It had been...an untter, miserable failure. 

     "You  _bitch_!" Leliana shrieked. "Do you think I  _need_ consistent reminders of what I have done to you!? Can I not ask for one moment  _alone_!?"

      _You can ask for it,_ I thought, but refrained from speaking it,  _though I do not think it is a wise request._

     "You have done nothing to me, Leliana."

     " _Stop_!" she begged, her voice a complete wreck of tears and desperation. "Stop, please, Salem, I...I  _cannot_ endure it!"

     "Endure what?" I asked.  _What have I done to her? Dear Maker, help me._

     "This...you..your presence, your voice. I cannot bear to be near you."

     I took a step closer, pushing the limit of every boundary I had ever crossed. "Leliana, what have I done?" I asked, keeping my tone as gentle as I could...trying to hide my fear. "Please. Tell me."

     "Do not come closer, Salem." she warned me. 

     Unafraid, I moved forward until I could feel her energy, a snarl-ball tangle of fear and anguish. My heart broke for her and I wanted to withdraw, but I would not let her fight this battle alone. We had come too far. 

     "Tell me." I entreated again, reaching out with my unburned hand, touching her salt-stained cheek. 

     " _Do not_!" she ordered. 

     A sharp crack sounded and my head snapped to the side. I felt blood on my cheek as Leliana's hand tore my burned skin. I reached up and grasped her wrist, careful to keep my hold gentle. She had been broken inside by something. 

      _She needs me and I will not leave her._

     "Tell me." I whispered, letting go of her wrist. "I am here, Leliana. Let me help you."

     "How  _dare_ you?" she seethed, shoving me backwards. 

     I backpedaled in the snow, catching my balance before I fell.  _Yes, anger. Let it loose your tongue. I am no mind reader, Leliana. Scream at me, shout at me, but **tell me** what is  **wrong.**  _

     "How dare I what?" I asked, gently pushing her towards a revelation. 

     "How dare you offer to help me!" she shouted and her pain echoed back to us from the mountain faces. "I just sewed your skin together  _like a quilt_! My hands are covered in blood, Salem.  _Your blood!_ I wake every morning  _sick_ with worry, wondering if it is the day when I must say my final farewell. You, you are impossibly  _cruel_ to me! I never wanted  _this!_ _I never wanted to love_   _ **again!**_ "

     "Leliana," I approached her once more, willing to take a dagger to the gut, a strike to the face, anything she wished to do to me, "please. Come here."

     "No." she placed a wall about herself, an impenetrable barrier of cold emotion. 

     I would have none of it. Saying nothing, I stepped inside her walls of ice and wrapped my arms around her. Her body trembled. 

      _"Salem!_ " she screamed and her fist came down on my left shoulder, hard. I winced, but held on to her as though she were the sole thing keeping me alive. "Get," another strike, "your hands," another, " _off of me!_ " _  
_

     "Why?" I asked, listening to her harsh, labored breathing. "Tell me why, Leliana."

     "I hate you." she sobbed against my shoulder. Shocked, I loosened my grip. She took advantage of it and shoved me away yet again. "I  _hate_ you, Salem Cousland."

     Her words were utterly without warmth. They stung, but I knew it was not Leliana who spoke. Not truly. We all had our breaking points. She had reached hers. I could not judge her, or respond in anger, no matter how much she wounded me. 

     "If that is what you need to do," my throat tightened as I opened my arms. "I am here. Hate me, Leliana."

     "Why?" her voice cracked, its lovely accent sundered with such sorrow, such pain. "Why must you always do this?"

     "What is it that I do?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.  _Another addition to the long list of my deficits._

     "You fly into battle like a madwoman; you fling yourself against blades and stones and  _dragons!_ " a soft crunch as she dropped to her knees in the snow. "I am forced to watch you torn apart time and time again and I can do  _nothing!_ And yet you remain so damnably noble,  _thanking_ me for causing you pain! Is it something you enjoy, Salem!? Is battle your first love!? Can you function without injury? Can you do nothing without coming back to me in  _shreds!? What am I to you?_ "

     I knelt before her, cupping the back of her head with my hand, pressing her forehead to mine. I wanted to be able to look into her eyes, ground her with my gaze, show her all the things I could never speak. But I could give her only words, and I had but one with which to answer her question. 

     "Everything."

     "What?" a question, full of confusion. 

     "You are my everything, Leliana." I told her. "The only reason I walk out of those battles at all is because I know,  _I know_ , you will be there. Without you, that dragon would have killed me. Without you, I would wake every morning, ready to embrace death. Instead, I fight. For you."

     "Without me, you would still have your sight." her voice rose, tear-strangled panic. "Without me, you would not have died. Without me, you would be free of scars. I..." she collapsed forward, into my arms, "I  _forgot_ you, Salem. When you found Morrigan," her words poured out, a litany of self-loathing and guilt, "she was so gravely injured. All other thoughts left my mind. I was so  _intensely_ focused on caring for her and caring for Wynne that I did not even  _think_ of you. I found you against the wall of the cavern, still bleeding, and when you would not wake..." she paused, her breath shuddering in and out in harsh gasps, "...when you would not wake I thought I had  _killed_ you. I have been the reason for your death once before. I cannot...I cannot...I cannot  _lose_ you, Salem!"

     A horrible sob pierced the quiescence of the mountains. I could feel Leliana's body shaking, feel the vibration of every cry in her voice. She seemed so vulnerable, so fragile, and it  _hurt_ me that I had been the cause of this moment. 

     "And then you  _thank_ me." she groaned. "I cause you nothing but pain and you...you do not even acknowledge it. I hurt you and you act as though it is nothing! I ask you to be cautious and you fling it to the wind! You are killing me, Salem! Every time I find you injured, I  _die_ a little more! Every time I cause you pain some piece of my soul vanishes! I cannot bear this much longer! I cannot bear the not knowing each and every moment if you will remain in this world!"

     "I will not leave." I stroked my hand through her hair and kissed her tears away. "I swear it. No matter what we face, no matter what decisions I must make, no matter how many scars I accumulate, I will  _always_ return to you."

     "Don't lie to me." she begged, burying her face between my neck and shoulder. "Promise."

     "You have my word." I swore. "I will walk through hellfire and tear down heaven if I must."

     "I..." her shoulders shook with quiet sobbing. "I could never hate you, Salem. Forgive me."

     "There is nothing to forgive." I used her words from earlier. "Come back inside, dear heart. We will both freeze."

     "All right." she agreed and helped me to my feet. "You should not have moved so soon, Salem. You might have torn your stitches."

     "Ah well," I wrapped my arm about her waist. "Oghren did try to stop me."


	26. Love's Limits

**Leliana**

     _I am losing my mind,_ I leaned on Salem, feeling guilty as she half-carried me back into the cavern.  _She is injured and I am too weak to support myself...so she bears the weight of my burdens and hers, yet again._

    The warmth of the fire greeted us and Salem helped me sit down. I did not look into her eyes, afraid to see the pain I knew would be there. I could not face it. I could barely face her. I had only let her take me into her arms because I needed her comfort and reassurance, even as I despised myself for that desire. 

     Salem offered me a canteen. "No, thank you." I whispered. 

     My voice had been harshened by tears and screaming. I did not sound myself.  _In Val Royeaux, I was known as the one who could conjure tears from a stone with my voice. Now, here I am, in this mad time where the skies are set screaming, unable to speak above a whisper._

     Salem quirked her lips in a half-smile. I could not tell if her mind were filled with worry. I imagined that it was.  _How did she stand there and listen? How did she keep her voice so measured, her movements so sure? I would be flat on my back had I done that to Marjolaine, or any other I have been with. We would both be bleeding; blades would have been drawn. I have never experienced such...calm. Such surety in the face of madness._

     Salem poured water into her hand without a word, using it to clean the blood from her burned cheek where I had split the skin. My heart jerked painfully in my chest. 

      _I hurt her again, with words and blows...in truth, what manner of woman am I? I told her I hated her...it isn't true. Maker's blood, it isn't true._ _  
_

"Salem," I ventured, longing to touch her, afraid, "Salem, please say something."

     "I love you, Leliana." she whispered. 

     My heart broke. I brought my knees to my chest and rested my head on them, sobbing. Oghren muttered something and walked away from the fire, giving us privacy and much needed warmth. I had sat in the snow for...I did not know how long. Foolishly, I had thought I had no tears left to spend. My body shivered with chill and grief. 

     Warmth settled across my shoulders as Salem draped a bearskin over me.  _Stop,_ I pleaded, tasting salt on my lips.  _Stop being so tender. I struck you and pushed you away. How can you find it in your heart to care for me still?_

     "How?" I asked at last. "After what...what I did, what I said...just...how?"

     "It is my nature." she answered. "As it is yours."

     "That's not true." I wiped my tears away and my eyes burned as more took their place. 

     "Is it not?" she asked, staring off into some distance that was so far away, so ink-black I could not fathom it. "How many times have I hurt you, Leliana? Every time I return wounded, I know you feel that pain. Every time you are forced to watch me go into battle, I can sense your heartache. I have not been fair to you, Leli, and it hurts me that I cannot be."

      _She does know,_ the revelation struck me across the face.  _She does know and has known how I have felt for quite some time. And there is nothing she can do to remedy the situation. The only thing that would end these constant battles, this ever-present danger, is the death of the archdemon, and we simply cannot march into the creature's lair and kill it._

     "I ask too much of you." I whispered. 

     "It is no more than I am willing to give." she answered, wrapping her arm about me and sharing her warmth. "I only regret that it is more than I am able to."

     "Salem, forgive me." I begged, wishing that she could see me, see the tears in my eyes, the utter wreck of my hair, my wind-chapped skin. I wanted her to see my honesty and my deep sorrow. 

     "You've done nothing wrong." she said, shouldering our burdens. "If you wish to walk away from this, Leliana, I will not hold it against you. If you wish not to love me anymore, I understand. You deserve another who can do what you ask, for it is so very little. It should be..." her own eyes rimmed with tears, "...so very easy not to die."

      _How can you think I do not wish to love you? It is painful but...worth it. Worth every moment of worry, every frantic beat of my heart._

     "I...I could never stop loving you, Salem." I confessed. 

     "But," her lips quivered with repressed emotion, "you said that you never wished to love again. I never knew...never meant to subject you to that manner of grief. I have given everyone here the right to leave if they choose. You almost did, and I begged you to stay. I...I will not be so selfish again, Leliana. If you feel you must walk away from this, I will not try to stop you. It will do you no good to stay for my sake, if I am what is tearing you apart. I do not wish you that manner of pain."

     "Salem, I cannot even remember half of what I shouted at you." I said, the memory of my rage melting away. "I was so lost in my grief and to see you remain so...so impossibly unfaltering...it infuriated me. I was not myself and I...I never meant..."

     "You meant every word." Salem assured me. "What is spoken in anger is often the representation of our truest self. I am...grateful. You stripped my beliefs away and laid me bare. While it was a gruesome reflection...it is something I needed to see."

     She spoke in beautiful, tentative metaphor. I pressed closer against her, trying to convey what words did not have the power to. Need. Love. Pain. 

     "You should have been a bard, love." I said. "A life of music and legends would have suited you."

     "It suits you better." she pressed a kiss against my cheek. "Do you...do you wish to return to it?"

      _Do I? Marjolaine is no longer a threat; all of her cockroaches that would harm me have slithered back into their gutters. I could go back to Val Royeaux and continue my life there among the nobility. I could even return to the Chantry and enlist my skills in the service of the Divine. Or I could stay...I could stay and let my heart fall completely to pieces every morning. I could give myself over to slaughter and bloodshed, the stripping of skin and breaking of bones, camping on roadsides, covered in filth and blood. One life is far more pleasant than the other._

I admired Salem's face in the firelight. The strong, proud set of her jaw, the crooked bridge of an aquiline nose, the strong, supple bow of her lips. Loving her was wounding me; both of us knew this to be true. I also knew that her love was strong enough to let go of me...so that I did not perish of devotion. 

     _Salem would not be with me, should I choose to go. Maker, look at her. She is tearing herself in half. My silence is wounding her as I sit here wracked with indecision. We are each other's summation and pinnacle of pleasure and pain. It will end us both, and Ferelden...Thedas...needs her._ _  
_

"It...might be best." I ventured. "For the both of us."

     "If that is what you believe," she did not let go of me, or pull away as most would have. Instead, she stayed, cherishing, treasuring what she felt she might soon lose. "I will not keep you here."

     I became the villain. I was the one who rose and struck the tears from my face. My hands lifted my bow, quiver, and satchel. I turned from the fire. 

     "I...I'm sorry, Salem."

     She stood with slow, pained movements. "The fault is mine." she took blame for the final time. "Be well, Leliana."

     I hung my head and choked back tears, unable to speak. "I promise. When this is over..."

     "You will not hear from me." she promised, though they were not the words I wanted. "Thank you, dear heart, for all you have done."

     "Farewell, Salem." I began to walk out of the cavern, through the tunnels, refusing to look back. I heard Salem drop to the ground, utterly defeated. 

     I wanted to rush back to her, declare it a mistake, beg her to forgive me even when I could not forgive myself. I wanted to taste her lips and feel her hands on my skin, writing promises into me with an intimate touch. But no. I chose to walk away. To flee. As I had fled from Marjolaine. As I had fled from the Chantry. 

     "Leliana," Salem's voice captured my ear and I turned. She sat before the fire, staring through it with sightless eyes. "I wish I could have seen you." she lifted her face and I caught a glimpse of tears. "One last time."


	27. The Hard Good-Bye

**Salem**

     _I wish I had gone deaf as well._ I thought, sitting closer to the fire, trying to scorch the tears away.  _Then I could not hear every step as she walks away from me._ I sighed and lay back down on the ground, hating the black before my eyes, loathing the empty ache of my heart...knowing that I was the cause of both. 

     "Leliana," I whispered, "please forgive me. I failed us both. Do not think of me again, if it sets your heart at ease. Please, find a way to hate me."

     I flexed the fingers of my charred hand, expecting the pain, delighting in it. It would keep me awake. I knew if I slept I would dream of Leliana...and wake without her. The dreams were torment enough when I could not see her, but now that she was gone...tears fell, silent. 

     I had never known what it was to feel completely numb inside. I had nearly reached that point after Arl Howe sacked Highever and destroyed my family, but the promise of revenge had kept me sane, kept me fighting, kept me alive. And then, after Ishal, at Lothering, when I thought everything had truly been obliterated and all hope was lost, she had come into my life. 

      _Leliana, you gave me reason to keep living. You kept me grounded in this world, focused on my mission. In Denerim, I said I did not know if I could go on without you. It was true. But now...I said when this was over, you would not see me again. I said that because...because I do not think I will survive. With the Archdemon dead, I have nothing to return to. Please, live, my love. For both of us._

     Someone stirred beside me. "Salem?" Wynne asked. 

     Inwardly, I groaned. While kind and well-meaning, the senior enchanter was the last person I wished to speak to. 

     "Yes."

     "How long has it been?" she asked. I heard her rifling through her pack. 

     "Oghren says at least a half a day." I answered, uncertain of the time. 

     It had all smeared to a blur...everything. Leliana was gone. Time meant nothing. Life meant nothing. 

     "Has Morrigan woken?" Wynne entered into her healer's mindset, looking after the injured. The distraction was pleasant. 

     "Not that I am aware of." I replied. "Oghren said she hasn't stirred."

     "A mercy that." Wynne's voice carried sympathy. "My reserves have rebuilt; I am more than capable of healing the both of you, within reason."

     "See to the witch first." I told her. "Her injuries were far more severe."

     "Ah, but she is not awake." Wynne countered. Apparently her rest had restored her chipper mindset. "It is unwise to perform healing spells on a mage who might still be in the Fade. I will not imperil her position."

     "Very well then." I allowed Wynne to come closer and examine my injuries. 

     She lifted what was left of my shirt, unwrapped the bandaging, and assessed the damage. 

     "Leliana is quite deft with a needle." she mused. "I suppose, in her line of work, she would find such skills a necessity. Bards work best and most often alone; they would need greater knowledge of healing than others."

      _Do not say her name._ I begged, though I did not voice the words.  _It is already pounding in my head over and over like a fucking death knell. Reminding me of all that I have lost._

     "As you say."

     "Are you well, Salem?" Wynne asked. I imagined her eyelids narrowing as her tone became suspicious.

     "Feeling my injuries is all." I lied. "Whoever know that dragon's blood could eat through steel and melt it to flesh."

     "Indeed." Wynne agreed. "They were thought long eradicated until recently. They were relegated to legends and tales, knowledge of their truths lost."

      _Tales like the ones Leliana would tell me when I woke from nightmares and could no longer sleep. Stories of love lasting through tragedy and hardship. But the legends never sing of love's despair; the heroes are paragons of strength, leaving every battle victorious and unbloodied. Their lovers never have to stitch their wounds and pray for them to return to consciousness. Will you write a song for me, my love? Will you sing tales of a hideously scarred Grey Warden? No, for who would listen? No one desires a story of love ended in the midst of tragedy._

     "Where is the bard?" Wynne asked, and my heart cracked. "I could use her aid, given your aversion to healing magic."

     I sighed. I had known there would be no way to keep this secret, but I still wished it to be. I had to be strong for them, for all of them. I could not afford weakness. I did not have the luxury of time to grieve. 

     "She left, Wynne."

     "When will she return?" the healer asked, thinking her on some errand.

     "She will not."

     "Surely you jest." Wynne pressed, and my head began to ache. 

     "No." I could not bear the sound of my own voice, so flat, so bereft of emotion. "She's gone, Wynne."

     "Salem...what happened?" her voice was full of shock, regret, and pain. Wynne cared deeply for Leliana; become the mother that my bard had lost too soon. 

     "We fell apart." I answered, barely feeling it as Wynne took my charred hand in her own. "It became too much for her...it was tearing her to pieces. I could not ask her to stay, or force her to...so I asked if she wished to leave."

     "So sudden?" Wynne asked, full of sympathy and pity that I did not want to hear. 

     "In truth, I am surprised it did not happen sooner." I admitted. 

     "Denerim changed things." Wynne agreed, wisely avoiding inquiries about my mental state. "I could sense it, but I thought surely...surely the two of you..."

     "Love was not enough, Wynne." against my will, tears fell from my eyes. "Everything, every tale, every story, every legend is a lie. I suppose you can only force another through so many layers of hell until they shatter."

     "What of you, Salem?" Wynne asked. "What do you intend to do?"

     "Finish this." I muttered, voice dark. "Find the damn, Urn, use it to heal Arl Eamon, call the Landsmeet, rally the troops and kill the  _fucking_ archdemon."

     "And after that?" Wynne rubbed more of her salve into my skin, soothing the burn. 

     "Hopefully, I will be dead." I saw no reason to hide my intentions from her. "I have no plans of surviving."

     "Fool." Wynne's voice became cold, the chastising schoolmistress. "After all of this, you are just going to throw your life away?"

     I sat up, furious. "Throw what away?" I asked. "This illustrious life that will not last for more than thirty years?  _Thirty years at **best** ,_ Wynne! My blood is tainted! I knew this; Leliana knew this! We attempted, we loved...we lost the fight."

     "You are the one that let her go." Wynne reminded me. 

     "I will not put chains on anyone, Wynne." I spoke between my teeth, reining in my anger and my grief, shoving it down into the dark part of my soul. "All you have been more than welcome to depart this endeavor at any time. Leliana simply availed herself of that freedom."

     Wynne's hand rested on my shoulder. "And broke your heart."

     "What heart?" I scoffed. "I have one no longer. She carries it with her. Fortunately, I have no need of such things anymore. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. That is all that matters now."

     "Salem, you do not mean that." Wynne gave me a chance to retract my statement. 

     "Just finish your magic work and leave me be." I growled. I had spoken of it, and I no longer had anything to say. 

     Wynne took my hand in hers and I knew this healing would be unpleasant. The thought made me smile. I gritted my teeth, hoping that the pain would be enough to spiral me into nightmares, surely sweeter than this reality. 


	28. Unwanted Answers

**Leliana**

    The tunnels reeked of blood, death, and decay. We had left the bodies where they had fallen...unconcerned with the souls of our enemies. 

      _I have killed so many,_ I thought as I tripped, my vision obscured by tears.  _Why should I presume to believe that the Maker would send me a vision? There are those more suited for such gifts, whose hands are far better equipped for that role. I thought,_ I dashed tears from my eyes, furious that they would not cease,  _I thought the Maker had placed me at your side, Salem. But it was just the mad dreaming of an insignificant bard._

     A fresh wave of grief poured over me, stripping another layer of flesh from my heart. I leaned against the ice-choked walls, slamming my fist against them until I became numb to the pain. My knuckles came away bruised and bloodied. I stared at my ruined flesh for a moment, too dazed to form a coherent thought. 

     My body forced itself to move. Each step felt like a knife to the gut. 

      _I cannot believe you let me go,_ I spoke to Salem in my mind, already missing the dark notes of her laughter, the haunting seduction of her whispers, the hoarse desperation of her grief.  _How do you make me feel replete with love when I can do nothing but loathe myself? You were wrong, Salem. In my anger, I did lie. It is not you I hate, my warden. Never you. Why could you not rail against me, shower me with resentment, flay me with guilt?_

     "Why," my ruined voice cracked as I asked the question I feared the answer to, "why did you let me go, Salem?"

     Despair drained away the last of my strength and I collapsed against the tunnel walls, uncaring that the main temple lay just ahead, that the world beyond could be mine for the taking. I closed my eyes in a fruitless battle against the tears. 

     " _Why?_ " I looked to the sky, to my precious, lying, mercilessly silent Maker. " _Damn you, tell me why!"_

     As if in answer, a long repressed memory reached the forefront of my thoughts. 

* * *

      _I fidget, waiting for the sun to go down. **She is never here during the day; only when night falls will she show her face to me. This, I tire of,**_ _I think, cleaning my nails with the tip of my dagger. Dried blood is still caked beneath them from this afternoon's escapades._ ** _Why will you only gaze at me in moonlight, Marjolaine? Do I displease you? Are my features too stark in the light of day?_**

_The last edge of the sun creeps below the horizon and I wait, knowing she will come to me. Marjolaine is as fickle as the spring breezes, but when coin is assured and a task requires proof of completion, she will arrive without fail._

_She melts from the shadows as though she is one of them, her hair an onyx that rivals midnight's black._

_"There you are, my pretty thing." she coos, threading her fingers through my hair._

_She smells of myrrh and gardenia. It intoxicates me as I inhale, as I begin to lose my resolve._

_"Stop." I pull away from her touch, extending a leather coin purse. "As agreed."_

_She snatches it away, pouring its contents into her hand. "Ah, my nightingale," she purrs low in her throat, "you never fail to deliver...exquisite...results."_

_Unwilling, I blush at the compliment. I shake my head and steel myself. What I do next is something that must be done._

_"This is the last one, Marjolaine." I tell her. "I want my freedom."_

_"Of course, pretty thing." Marjolaine pouts. Her supple lips gleam beneath the moon, full of promises. "I ask only," she winds her arms about me like the coils of a snake, "the tiniest of favors."_

_**No. No more favors. No more blood drenched games of whimsy. I am tired, Marjolaine. I want a life that is mine.** **  
**_

_But her eyes are moist with what look like tears; her hands cradle me against her, so loving, so tender a touch. "Ask it." my throat goes dry._

_Though I have given her no guarantee, I know she is seeking a way to entrap me._

_"You sing of wanting your freedom, little nightingale." she whispers, nibbling at the edge of my ear in the way that sets my nerves on fire. "And I am more than willing to give it. On one condition."_

_**Always...** I fume, though I am helpless to resist. I feel a dagger at my back, pressed lightly over a vital organ. I must answer her or die. That is her world, her way. Living in black and white, dancing between shades of grey. _

_"Name it."_

_She laughs, a deep mire of silk and quicksand. "Tell me you do not love me, Leliana."_

_**What?** Alarm fires behind my eyes; the dagger makes it presence more forceful. "I...I do not understand."_

_"If you truly love me as you say," Marjolaine traces my jaw with her fine, ivory fingers, "then you do not, in earnest, wish to leave. It is impossible to abandon what you love, pretty thing. So tell me you do not love me, and I will set you free."_

_"I..." I struggled with the words, finding it difficult to lie with her hand on my breast and her knife in my back, "I...I don't..."_

_"Say it." she taunts me. "Say it and earn your freedom."_

_**I do not love you, Marjolaine.**_   _I taste the words, taste my freedom; it lies just in front of me. "I do not..." **she took me in, gave me a home, a life, a family...love. I have never known a passion so fierce, a kiss so ferocious that it touches my very soul. I cannot lie, not about this, not to her.**_

_My shoulders slump as my hope of freedom collapses. "I cannot say it, Marjolaine." I admit my defeat and I swear I can hear her smile._

_"Then you do not wish to leave me." Marjolaine bites my ear to the point of pain, as though taming a wild dog. "The heart knows what it wants, nightingale."_

_She slips back into her shadows and I fall to my knees, feeling despair claw at my heart. She has me completely entangled in her insidious web. I am not my own. I never will be. She owns all that I am. She loves me._

* * *

      _Dear Maker!_ The answer to my question struck me, blunt force trauma to the gut. I staggered to my knees as the contents of my stomach forced themselves out of my body. I retched until nothing remained within me. 

     I clung to the ground as the world spun and my body trembled. My throat burned from acid as sobs tore me apart. 

     "You," I spoke to Salem though she was not there, and never would be again, "you let me go...without a fight...because you  _love_ me."

     I rolled over onto my back and stared at the ceiling. "You truly love me." I traced her face in my mind; firm jaw, high, structured cheekbones, a straight nose too long for classic beauty, and once broken for a roguish profile. "As no other ever would."

     I curled into a tight ball of pain as a primal scream, soaked with anguish, shredded across my vocal chords. If this continued, my voice would be destroyed. 

      _It does not matter,_ I consoled myself,  _I have no wish to sing again. I would cherish it in my heart this way...that you were the last person to hear the nightingale. Salem...Salem...Salem!_

     I lay there, shivering on the floor, longing for what I had lost. 

      _No...not lost. What I have thrown away._

 

 


	29. Decisions Made in Madness

**Salem**

    I flexed my right hand, feeling the strange sensation of new skin grown too soon. Wynne's magic had returned with ferocity and power, and while I had suffered from it, I felt much more whole. The senior enchanter informed me that the dragon's blood had left behind strange, blue scars all across the palm, back, and fingers of my right hand. It did not matter and I did not care. I could use the hand, and that was of more importance. 

     There would always be scars. Even magic could not erase them. It was part of this life; where everything endured left a mark of itself.  _Would that I could hold my heart in my hands and see its open wounds. But you took that from me, Leliana. You left me here, numb. So selfishly, I want you here beside me. How is it possible to long for you already?_

     Oghren approached me and tossed something that clanged at my feet. "Ain't as good as the ones you lost," I felt about the ground and wrapped my fingers around the hilt of a sword, "but they oughtta get ya through."

     I lifted each sword, testing the edges with the pad of my thumb. "They'll work, Oghren. Thank you."

     I rose and tucked the new blades into my sheathes, then strapped them to my back. I allowed their weight to settle before heading for the exit. 

     "And where do you think you are going?" Wynne's voice arrested my footsteps.

     I could picture her, hands on her hips, lips pursed in a frown. Melancholy whispered through me as I remembered my mother taking that same stance of disapproval. 

     "To the temple." I answered. "It is time to finish this and get back to Redcliffe. We cannot afford to waste time."

     "And where are the others?" she demanded. "Who is going with you?"

     "No one." I answered. 

      _I will not risk losing another one of them. Not to death, not to anything. I will face whatever lies ahead alone, as it should be._

     "You are not intending to do this alone!" Wynne exclaimed, coming closer. "Salem, have you lost your  _mind?_ It is far too dangerous. What if there are worse sorts in that place than Eirik, Kolgrim,  _and_ the dragon?"

     "If there were, we would have faced them as soon as the dragon fell. You do realize they worshipped it?"

     "Do  _not_ dodge this conversation." she scolded me. 

     "Morrigan needs someone to stay with her. You need people to protect the both of you, should something happen. I am going alone, Wynne, and if you disapprove of this, feel free to leave."  _You would not be the first._

     "You may attempt to strangle me at arm's length, Salem, but I will not be dissuaded. This is foolishness and you know it. I warned you from the first that your relationship with Leliana was precarious at best. Just because she has left you, you do not have the right to endanger yourself and Ferelden."

     "Keep pushing me, mage, and history will write you as the one responsible for my corpse." I said, at wit's end with her sermons. "We're finished here."

     "Salem." she called as I turned my back. " _Salem_."

     "Burrow." I patted my thigh and the mabari ran to me with a bark. I looked over my shoulder for the sake of the gesture. "Contented, Wynne? Now I am not going alone."

     "Be safe, Salem." she whispered after me. 

     The cavern caught her low tones and brought them to my ears. I shook my head, marching out into the clear, crisp air. I could sense that the sun had gone down, though all the world was dark to me.

      _It will remain so, even if I am to regain my sight. She is gone. My light is gone. I have nothing now to guide me towards a brighter day. Only the hope of a suicide mission. Only the prayers of thousands of men and women who rest their destiny on my shoulders. That is not enough. Maker, save me, but it is not enough. How can you ask one person, one soul, to carry the weight of all the world and strip them of the things they cherish? Leliana's vision became my faith that you were not dead, not deaf to the pleas of this world. But now she is gone, and everything becomes a lie. Even you._

     I walked around the dragon's body, listening to Burrow slog through the snow beside me. The door was not far away now. What would I find inside? More mad cultists in love with a dragon and a lie? Or a vast, expansive tomb, swept empty...empty as my soul.

     I pushed at the doors, listening to the hinges scream as someone entered for the first time in what might have been centuries.  _Those cultists never came here,_ I thought, straining to open the door wide enough for me to enter.  _Something kept them at bay...but what?_

     I leaned against the door, catching my breath. I was still too weak and I despised myself for it.  _Would one less wound have kept Leliana here?_ I wondered.  _Less blood? Less damage? What could I have done?_

     I entered a room, judging it to be expansive by the way the sound of my footsteps echoed forth and back. I walked forward, sensing the presence of another. I reached for my swords, hating my unfamiliarity with them. I had lost too much on this quest. Pieces of my body, blood, my swords, my armor...my love. 

"Stand down, Grey Warden." a voice, older than the stone I stood on, greeted me. 

     "Who are you?" I asked, unwilling to remove my hands from my weapons. Burrow growled low in his throat. One word from me and whoever challenged us would know regret. 

     "Not your enemy," the voice sounded masculine. "Not at this time. I am the Guardian of the Ashes, and you are one who would claim them for yourself."

     "In part, but not in whole." I said. This man had truth in his voice, with an echo of sorrow. Whoever he was, he had no truck with Kolgrim and the cult who worshipped the dragon. 

     "You would come here blind to seek what those with sight have declared does not exist." I could hear amusement in his voice. "Tell me, warden, why should I let you pass?"

     "A Blight is on the land." I made my case. "I am one of two wardens left in this country. We must gather an army to face the darkspawn, and one man who can help us is deathly ill. No other cure can be found for him. That is why we...I...have come to seek the Ashes."

     "You speak in plural and in singular. If you are many, why do you come as one?"

     "This is something I must do alone." I answered, hanging my head. 

     "You have ever been alone, Salem of House Cousland." he declared. 

      _How did you know my name?_ "Do you know me?" I asked, uncertain now if this man was flesh and blood. 

     "I know that you believe you are the last of your line." he replied. "I know that you stumble in the dark of your blindness and the turmoil in your heart. It is fitting that your Nightingale has fled from your side, warden. Your way lies on darker paths than hers shall ever reach."

     I reached out and grasped the pauldrons of his armor, pulling him towards me. He did not resist. 

     "How do you know of me and Leliana?" I demanded. "Who in hell are you?"

     "I am but the Guardian of the Ashes." he stated, his voice the same monotone it had been from the beginning. "Our Lady has given me deeper sight than most could dream of possessing. There are many who have come here who are unworthy. I have not let them pass to the next trials."

      _Next trials? Of course. Why can nothing come with ease...things only depart in such a manner._

     "And me?" I asked. "Will you let me face these trials?"

     "A blind woman in the halls of my Lady?" he questioned. "I do not think you will make it out of here alive, Salem Cousland."

     "And what do you know of me and my resolve?" I baited him. 

     "That both are nearly gone." he answered. "You have lost everything you hold dear and more. Your father and mother, your brother's wife and your nephew. Their losses came close to destroying you."

     "I am not yet gone." I could not see him, yet he could peel back the layers of my mind and read my history with ease. Discomfort filled me. 

     "Not from that, no. But this, this death most recent, it will ruin you, Lady Cousland. Everything good in you shall pass away and you will die at the end of your journey. Is that what you desire?"

     "That was not my choice." I defended myself. "She did what she felt she needed to."

     "And out of love, you fell silent." I could sense a smile on his lips, but could not be certain. "Suicide of soul is love's darkest form."

     "But still a form of love." I did not wish to speak of this any longer. If death came at the end of my journey or the end of his swords, I would welcome it with open arms. "Have I passed muster, Guardian? May I go forth and seek the Ashes?"

     "The Gauntlet is yours to run, Grey Warden." the clank of armor as he stepped aside. "Your success lies with the Maker."

      _The Maker is dead,_ I thought as I strode past him, not knowing what new horrors I might face. 


	30. One Man's Dream, Another's Nightmare

**Leliana**

     _On your feet, Leliana!_ I staggered to my feet and began walking again, simultaneously desperate and hesitant to leave this place.  _I am more than capable of doing this. How many times have I been destroyed and forced to rebuild myself? Countless? I have even walked away from lovers before, and it did not break me then. Why is this time any different? Because it was Salem?_

     I leaned against the wall once more as grief poured through me.  _Yes. Because it was Salem. Because she had nothing but love to give, and even that she was willing to part with. For my sake. And I walked away. I took the one thing she had left and ground it into dust._

     I stumbled into the main hall where we had left Alistair, Shale, and Genitivi. I prayed they were not still present. I did not want to see anyone, anyone that would remind me of her. I wished I had taken Salem's fate. I wished I were blind. 

     Footsteps pounded in my ears as Alistair rushed up to me, eyes frantic with worry. I stopped short, pinching the bridge of my nose as I felt a headache begin to pound behind my eyes. I snatched my hand away as I realized whose gesture I mimicked. 

      _Salem...how deeply are you ingrained in me?_

     "Leliana." Alistair stood there, panting and leaning forward, his hands on his thighs for support. "I saw you come back. What's happened? Maker's breath, you're white as snow. Is everything all right? Is Salem..."

     "I do not know." I raised my hand to forestall his questions and began walking. 

      _Ignore him, Leliana. Ignore him. He will say nothing to you but what you have already told yourself. It does not matter. I cannot go back._

     "What do you mean, you don't know?" he followed after me as he had followed Salem, like a lost puppy. 

     I turned to face the future king. A friend's anger frightened him, especially if he did not understand it. But anger was all I possessed.

     "I do not know how she is and I do not care! Does this answer your endless queries!?"

     "What? Why?" questions tumbled out of his lips. If he had been this talkative during our entire absence, I feared the golem's ears had been chipped away to nothing. "Did she send for us?"

     "No, Alistair." I kept walking. 

     He clutched my wrist and pulled me around. "What are you talking about, Leli?"

     I looked into his eyes; saw the fear and vulnerability. The same vulnerability that had been in Salem's eyes the night she gave me her heart. The night she had stripped away all physical and metaphorical armor and trusted me implicitly.

     "It's too much, Alistair. I cannot explain. I have to go." I gently disengaged his hand, turned on my heel, and began once more the journey to make my way out of this hell. 

     "You _left_ her, didn't you?" he asked, and I stopped short, not expecting the force of his words and the dark fury that lay beneath them. 

     "You would not understand." I hung my head,  _screaming_ at myself not to cry. 

     "No, I would not." he walked toward me, accusation streaming from his every pore. "You did not see her after Ishal." he told me, glaring straight into my eyes. "You did not see her when she at last had time to breathe, time to realize that she had lost  _everything._ Her family, her home, her title. She was alone in a world of nightmares, a fledgling warden whose mentor had been  _slaughtered_. She had me, Leliana. You think I do not know what a sorry excuse I am for a protector and a guide? There is a  _reason_ we all follow behind  _her._ I am not that  _stupid._ " _  
_

     I stood there, listening, stunned by his words, by their ferocity and what had to have been their truth. I had not known Salem at that time. I could scarcely recall her any different than she was now...I had lost my breath when I first looked on her, freshly bloodied from a fight with highwaymen. No one had stirred my heart that way since I gazed on Marjolaine. And when her eyes had met mine...I had vanished into them. 

     "What are you getting at?" I demanded, not knowing if I would be able to bear his next words, yet unable to walk away. 

     "Meeting you...changed her." he told me, tearing at my already frayed heart. "On the road to Lothering, she did not speak except to intervene in my and Morrigan's arguments." he looked down in...guilt? "I am in earnest, Leliana; she scarcely joined two words together. After you joined us she...she began to speak, to ask me about the wardens, to acknolwedge the presence of others. Hell, you made her smile, a feat I did not know she was capable of."

     "What are you trying to tell me, Alistair?" I asked, knowing now that I could  _not_ hear more, but forcing myself to do so regardless. 

     I could not picture the warden broken, silent, over a line that could not be re-crossed. I could not fathom not hearing her voice, its rough Ferelden accent with lyric notes. 

      _I...I must keep myself together. I cannot conceive that I have pushed her back into such a darkness._

     "You kept her alive." he answered, voice low. "Whatever you made her feel, whatever hope you inspired in her...she charged an ogre at Ishal. Just...ran straight into it like she was begging it to kill her. Every skirmish after that was the same. Until..."

     "Until I joined you." I finished, pinching the bridge of my nose once more. I tore my hand away for the second time, furious with myself. "It does not matter, Alistair. She asked me if I wanted to leave and said she would not stand in my way if I wished to do so."

     "Because she is too good a woman!" Alistair raised his voice in anger. Anger that the good-hearted, jovial warden felt towards me. "Salem is chained to her tainted blood, to me, to this damn Blight!  _She has no free will!_ Do you think she desires another, especially one that she  _loves_ , to feel that burden?"

     "Alistair..."

     "Hear me out." he defended his warden-sister. "Salem carries countless fates and destinies. Every blow she takes is a thousand deaths; every victory is ten-thousand lives spared. Like it or not, accepting of it or not, you  _carried her_ , Leliana. And I was grateful, because I thought you were up to the task."

     Bitterness scoured through my soul. "I am not. That is the simplicity of it. Farewell, Alistair. If Salem should return, do not tell her we spoke."

     "She let you go because she loves you too much and she's too proud to beg." Alistair called after me and my shoulders bunched into shrieking knots. "I'm not that good a person. Please stay, Leliana."

     "She will not be able to forgive me." I wanted to turn around. I wanted to cling to my friend for comfort and pour my sorrow onto an understanding soldier. 

     "She will." he promised. "Once you opened her heart, I realized its true depth. Look at all she has done, Leliana. She forgave an assassin sent to  _kill_ her. She believes in the beauty of the world because you showed her that not all of it was destroyed."

     "Zevran was sent to take her life." I countered. "I ripped out her living heart and crushed it before her. She may not have been able to see me walk away, but I know she felt everything...everything. It...it isn't _fair_ , Alistair!"

    "Love is not fair, Leliana." he replied, scuffing his foot on the stone floor. "It is not to you and certainly is not to Salem. But give her a chance. Let her end the Blight. It will equalize, I promise."

     "What would you know of it?" I demanded. Alistair had never spoken of love. 

     "I know I wanted to be for her what you are." his eyes filled with unspoken emotion. 

      _I knew it. I **knew** it!_  I exclaimed within my mind.  _I could have sworn Alistair felt that way towards her! How many times have you imagined yourself in my stead, Alistair, sharing secrets and laughter, running your hands across her body?_

Jealousy crept in and it felt like my soul was coated in black ice. I inhaled, deep, straining to calm my thoughts. 

      _Perhaps this is for the best. Salem will see. She will see and understand. We could never have worked...no eternity was written for a love such as ours._

     "If she returns alive," I walked away again, swearing that no other words would sway me, "you will have your chance."


	31. The Dead that Speak

**Salem**

    I dashed tears from my eyes, clinging to Burrow's steady shoulders. I had answered the eight riddles, listening to stories of love and betrayal, wicked men with good intentions, good men with hearts darkened by love. Andraste's story was riddled with as much tragedy as my own...

      _Perhaps the Maker did speak to you, Leliana. It seems those He loves most are condemned to endure the worst of fates. Andraste burned in the flames of the Tevinter Imperium. And you, Leliana, you let your devotion to me consume you as surely as the pyre did her. Forgive me, if you can. I did not mean to condemn you to such a fate, my beautiful visionary._

     Burrow whimpered and pulled at my hand with his teeth. We needed to move forward, away from this place, away from my sorrow and my tragedy. There were still miles to travel, a country rotting at its core. I alone could save them. But not without these Ashes...these  _fucking_ Ashes of a woman who gave her life for her land. 

      _Would that I could make the same sacrifice, and soon. I don't...damn me...I do not want to live anymore. I know it is foolish, I know it is selfish, but...It. Is. What. I. Want._

     I moved forward, deeper into the gauntlet, dreading what I would find next. I prayed it was a battle with an opponent stronger of will or body than I. At least then, there might be honor in my death. All of a sudden, Burrow yipped and sprang away from me, rushing towards something unknown. 

     "Burrow!" I shouted. "Heel!"

     For the first time since I had held him as a squirming puppy, the mabari disobeyed me. I walked forward, drawing my blades. 

      _The only reason he would leave my side is if I were in danger,_ I rationalized. 

     "Good boy, Burrow." I heard a familiar voice, a voice that did not belong in this world anymore. 

     I quickened my pace to match the beat of my heart. "Burrow!" I called again and he barked, leading me in his direction. 

     "Hello, pup." my father spoke. 

      _This is not possible,_ I reasoned with myself, though every part of me wanted to rush into his arms and beg him to take this nightmare away.  _Father...why are you here? **How** are you here? And why in this place? I saw your wounds; you are dead, you and mother both! How...how can this be? _

     "F..." my voice shook as it had when I was a child and very afraid of Bryce Cousland's disappointment, "Father?"

     "Yes, Salem." I could picture his face, his greying hair, the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes when smiled. A warm hand landed on my shoulder and I flinched. 

      _How can he have a body? This is not right! I **must**  be dreaming._ 

     "What...what in hell are you doing here?" I asked. 

     "I'm here for you." he answered. "To take you back home. It is time to stop dreaming, daughter. You are needed elsewhere."

      _I want it to be the truth. I want nothing more than to close my eyes and wake up, able to see, in Highever, warm, in my bed. I want to hug Fergus and swing Oren into the air and hear him laugh. I want to complain as Mother and Oriana sew me into some impossible Orlesian fashion for a state dinner at which I will most certainly be bored to tears. I do not want to be here, scarred and broken-hearted, feeling tainted blood course through my veins with the burdens of thousands resting on me._

     "This is not a dream." I whispered the horrendous truth to myself, walking forward. My father pressed his hand against my shoulder, stopping me. 

     "Wake up, Salem." my father's voice became stern, as it had when I had broken my arm and refused a healer. 

     "I cannot." I forced myself to believe against everything I wanted. "This is not a dream."

     "Then what am I?" he asked, removing his hand. 

     "You are the dream, father." I told him. "Forgive me, but...we can speak no longer. You are not here. You are not real."

     "I am as real as you desire me to be." he said. "It is your choice, pup. Leave here with me, or continue into the nightmare you refuse to escape."

     "This nightmare is my life." I explained to my father...or my memory of him made flesh. "I do not want it, but it is the truth. I cannot forsake that."

     "You do not want to live, pup?" I could picture his eyebrow rising as fatherly concern embedded itself in his words. 

     "Not here." I confessed. "I want to be with you and mother in eternity."

     "Our eternity is not for you, daughter." he became grim. "No matter how soon your death may come, you will not be reunited with us."

      _Am I to be denied eternity because of my sins?_ I wondered. 

     "What have I done?" I asked, feeling my throat begin to tighten and tears threaten me again. 

     "You forsook your honor in the senseless taking of life." he answered. "You turned against crown and country, a thing we Couslands have never countenanced. You have spilled the blood of children, Salem. Did you truly think your family would be waiting for you at the end with open arms? No. There is no forgiveness for you, no matter what actions you take in the future. They are too colored by your past."

     "But," I defended myself against his onslaught, "but I'm fighting for Ferelden, father! I am trying to save the country you loved and defended! How can the Maker hold this against me?"

     "Look at the lives you have destroyed." my father's tone darkened. "You have dragged innocents with you on this road of darkness. Only one of them has made their escape, and even she is not unscarred from being in your presence."

     "Do you speak of Leliana?" I asked, incredulous. "I would never let this darkness touch her! I love her!"

     "If ever you laid a hand on her, she is tainted as surely as you are." my father argued. "Turn back, Salem. Turn back before you go too far and death is denied you because you have made this place your hell."

     "Get out!" I screamed. "Get out now! You are not here, you are not speaking!  _You. Are. **Dead!** "_

     I could sense his lips quirking in the half-smile that we shared. "Keep safe, pup."

     " _Leave me!_ " I turned to the wall, hiding my eyes even though they could see nothing. 

     "As you say." 

     Burrow whined as the spirit of my father, or whatever it had been, departed. 

     I crumpled to the floor, trembling.  _Would the Maker deny me death as punishment?_ I wondered.  _Would He force me to keep living as penance for crimes I never intended to commit? I have done all I can, all I am capable of, to preserve life! I have broken my back and had blades plunged into my body in defense of strangers. I have gone out of my way, spilling blood and gold into the hands of whoever may ask it. Is that not worthy of rest in eternity?_

     "What have I done wrong!?" I railed against the heavens, turning fear and questioning into fury. "What have you asked for that I have not given!?  _You took everything from me! Everything!_ "

     "Not everything." a stranger's voice. 

      _No._ I begged.  _Not another torment from my past._

     "Not from your past." a reply to my thoughts. "From your present."

      _I know that voice. I am losing what little is left of my sanity!_

     "What do you want?" I growled, forcing myself to stand and face what would surely be my enemy. 

     "I do not know, Salem." its voice rang with dark humor. "What would I want from me?"


	32. Betraying the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of rape in this chapter.

**Leliana**

    I walked through Haven, refusing to let my gaze leave the main road. I did not look at the graves we had dug not two nights ago. I did not see the quiet place where I had stolen a moment with my beloved. 

      _I see nothing,_ I forced myself to believe.  _I am blind to this, to all of it...as she was blind to me. As she fought for me and let me fight...without her eyes to trust that I would be all right, with nothing but intuition to face her enemy. I have never known a soul so strong as hers. This world will never see its like again._

     "Stop it, Leliana." I chided myself, falling back into habits from days gone by. 

     I had shouted at myself the entire way through my escape of the dungeons of Val Royeaux. I had carried on intense conversations and arguments on my journey to Ferelden. And now, now I spoke to myself to keep my thoughts silent, to keep myself from remembering that every step taken poured acid over my heart. 

     Alistair's words had flayed me with truth, a truth I wanted to deny but was powerless against. I did what I had ever done when faced with such things. I had turned my back and fled. 

      _Maker,_ I prayed,  _I want to believe that you sent me that vision. I want to believe that you have not forsaken this world. But...but it must not be true. Were it so, surely you would have prevented this. You would have kept us both, your sword and your oracle, from pain._

     I stopped on the outskirts of Haven, catching my breath. I inhaled, deep, and shook the dust of the town from my boots. I spat on the ground, cursing the town in Orlesian. 

     "May these homes know no love, this ground no growth, and their dead no peace."

      _Forgive me, Maker, but I can find no place in my heart for this...this hell, even if it is the resting place of your Bride._

     I took to the woods and shed my leather armor, exchanging it for my Chantry robes. Few, even the most depraved, would assault a lay sister. I examined the robes before I put them on, remembering when Marjolaine had forced me to masquerade as a sister of the chantry, in robes like these, and seduce a hapless noble with a taste for...ravaging virgin flesh. It had been an impossible ruse and I was beaten near to death when he discovered I was not what I claimed. But it did not matter. By that time, Marjolaine had acquired enough evidence to sate our client and damn him forever. 

      _She even had the gall to nurse me back to health,_ my mind crept into dark places as I dressed.  _Cleaning my cuts, salving my bruises, cooling my fever, and praising me for a task well done. And I basked in the glory of her approval...even though..._ a long-quiet fury sparked behind my eyes... _even though she let him rape me as she assembled her key witnesses. Salem would burn alive anyone who dared lay a hand on me, if I did not wish them to do so. She protected me...she let me go...to protect me._

     I abandoned the forests for the main road, keeping my wary hand on the hilt of my dagger. Before I knew it, I was running away from Haven, from my memories, from Salem's sightless eyes and gentle touch. I did not know how long I ran until I paused and gazed at the moon in the apex of the sky. 

     I caught my breath, feeling my lungs burn. I smelled smoke and sought out its source. A small fire highlighted the silhouette of a wagon and horses.  _An odd place to see travelers._ I thought. The road to Haven had been deserted during our journey here. We had encountered nothing but animals and roving packs of darkspawn. 

      _Darkspawn do not build fires._ I inched closer, listening. 

     "I tell you, we should never have taken that road." a woman's voice, very unhappy. "We are lost, Aaron. Days have gone by, and we have seen no travelers. This does not bode well."

     "I am not averse to the wild." a man, Aaron, I presumed, countered. "Place ill-traveled, bandits'll be scarce. We'll probably make it to the sea with most of our goods, which is better than I can say for others like us."

     "Our map does not chart these roads, father." a different voice, younger, feminine. "We could be in grave danger and...wait...I hear something." she rose and began scanning the edges of her family's camp.

      _She is quite talented,_ I mused, melting out of the shadows, a skill I had learned, oddly enough, from Morrigan. The witch had more talent for it than Marjolaine had ever possessed.  _Most would never have noticed me._

     "Please," I moved forward, altering my accent into something that I hoped sounded Ferelden, "do not be alarmed.

     "Put your weapon down, Shira." Aaron spoke to his daughter. "It's merely a Chantry sister." he walked to me and extended his hand. "I am Aaron Benadie." he introduced himself. "This is my wife, Lisbeth, and our daughter, Shira. What brings you to these unfriendly parts?"

     "I was separated from my sisters in the Frostback mountains." the lie fell from my lips with ease as I plied my old trade. Earn their confidence, earn their trust, use them and depart. "I have wandered in the woods for days attempting to find them. It is by the Maker's grace alone that I found this road."

      "Here," Lisbeth joined her husband and took me by the elbow, guiding me to their fire, "you must be exhausted and you look a fright. We haven't much but crude hospitality, I'm afraid."

     "I am grateful for whatever you might offer." I told them the truth. "Maker's blessings upon you. Also, forgive me for eavesdropping, but I could not help but overhear that you are traveling to the sea?"

     "We've family in Antiva." Aaron informed me, handing me a piece of bread. I took it, grateful. "They've had no complaints there of darkspawn. Figure it's safer to bed down there until the crown decides if this is an actual Blight."

     I drank from my canteen, examining his face. He was not lying. "You do not think a Blight is actually upon us?" I asked. 

     "Can't say as I do." he answered. "Darkspawn follow the scent of blood. War just ended with Orlais an' all, it figures that they'd be up an' about. Haven't heard tell of anyone spottin' an archdemon."

     I shivered as I remembered our encounter with the archdemon in the deep roads. How Salem and Alistair's eyes had glassed over as they whispered incoherently to each other about it's "song". I had thought I would lose her that day...half-expecting her to dive into the midst of the darkspawn and hack her way through to the archdemon. 

     Aaron turned to me, interested. "What's the Chantry's stand on this?" he inquired. "Does your Divine think there's a Blight afoot?"

      _I cannot speak for the Chantry. But I know the Blight is real. I have stood in the center of it. I have loved the one who will end it._

     "In truth, it has been quite some time since we have received word from Her Holiness." I staved off the question. "I do not like to think on it as I can do nothing to alter the outcome."

      _That, at least, is true._ I thought, bitter.  _I could not even remain by the side of Ferelden's only hope._

     "Makes sense, I suppose." Aaron considered my words and nodded. "Though I can't help but think it's a warden conspiracy. Maric was right not to let 'em in the country, if you ask me. He'd turn in his grave if he knew they'd killed his only son."

      _Not his only son,_ I seethed, though I kept a curious smile perched on my lips. 

     "Teyrn Loghain said the wardens didn't even light the signal. It was a hellish betrayal." anger colored his voice and I felt my palms begin to sweat. "My son was at Ostagar, sister." he confided. "If the bloody wardens had done their damn duty, Loghain would've taken the field and my boy'd be alive."

      _They **did** light the signal!_  I screamed within my mind.  _Wynne has told me as much. I have seen the scars on Salem's body where the darkspawn buried their arrows! The...the first time she nearly died in this fight against the darkspawn. Maker's breath, she is fighting for people like these,_ I looked to Lisbeth and Shira, saw their complete agreement wih Aaron's words.  _People who would see her dead as justice for a crime she did not commit. I abandoned her to carry their fate alone...heavens and hells, what have I done?_

     "Forgive me for speakin' my mind, sister." Aaron apologized. "Sorry for burdenin' you with my troubles, it's just good to hear the thoughts of others every once in a while. What is your opinion on this matter, bein' connected to the Maker an' all?"

     I smiled, reassuring, lulling him into the false security that I shared his beliefs. "I think the Maker has very little to do with it, in truth. I grieve for your loss, Aaron. I, too, have lost those I hold very dear."

     "Sodding wardens." Aaron lifted the cup he held in salute. "If it weren't for them, no damn archdemon, real or imagined, would even be lookin' for trouble to start."

     "I suppose..." I paused to steel myself, though to Aaron it looked as though I weighed my thoughts, "I suppose you are right."

     It was the bitterest lie I had ever told. 


	33. Truth of Self

**Salem**

    "Who are you?" I asked, unable to see who stood before me. I could only ascertain that it spoke with my voice. 

     "Salem Cousland, daughter of Bryce and Eleanor, sister to Fergus, Teyrna of Highever, and Grey Warden." she answered. "I am you, Salem. Your truths and doubts and fears. Do not doubt my existence. All you need know is that I am here to stop you."

     I clenched my hands around my swords. "I will not be stopped." I told her. "I am here for the Urn of Sacred Ashes and I will not be dissuaded."

     "Won't you?" she asked. "You wept at the story of Andraste, lost your sanity in the face of our father, and now you stand before yourself. I know how close you are to the line between despair and resolve. You have nothing to keep you breathing. You crave death. What better way than to perish by your own hand?"

      _There is but one way to end this._ I struck, one sword in an overhead strike, the other a slash to the side. My opponent blocked them both, deflected and returned. I dodged out of the range of her swords. 

     "Who have you become!?" she shouted. "Never have you struck the first blow! How can you even hope to retain your identity if you insist on tearing it to shreds!?"

     "I am what I must be!" I defended myself with words and blades. 

     "What?" she asked, venom in her voice. "Stoic? Emotionless? Erecting a pretense of care and concern when all you want to do is  _set your blades against my throat!_ "

     "I am not permitted to grieve!" I parried her blade and countered with mine, feeling satisfaction as she growled behind her teeth.  _First blood_. "I do not," I hammered at her, driving her back, attempting to break her guard, "have the luxury," another of my strikes connected, "of time!"

     She fell and I took a moment to rest, trying to calm my hectic breathing. A chorus of snarls and barks met my ears. Apparently Burrow faced his own demons as well. 

      _Want to trade, boy?_ I smiled.  _I would be grateful for an enemy who could not speak._

     "And yet," she stood and lashed out at me with a strength I could never have possessed. "You find the time to wallow in your indignation and  _self-pity!_ Leliana left me!" she taunted, keeping me on a barely maintained defensive. "I have to kill the archdemon!  _I have thirty fucking years left!_ "

     "Stop!" I begged as she flung my own thoughts into my face. 

     "You want me to stop?" she brought her blade down and slashed deep across my thigh. I fell and she stood over me. "You want to go on believing that destiny has forced this cruelty upon you? We are not that ignorant. You would be dead if it were not for Duncan's presence in Highever the night Rendon Howe betrayed us. Instead of moldering in the earth you have thirty years left to live. Saving lives is a small price to pay for the continuation of your own."

     Blood soaked through my clothes as I struggled to my feet. My left leg would not hold my weight. 

     "You see the taint as a gift?" I asked, incredulous. Never before had I thought... _but I am talking to myself. Somewhere, within my mind, I must feel this way._

     "It is a blessing." my Self replied. "Were it not for our tainted blood, we would never have met Leliana. We would never have known love."

      _No. No. You, with your twisted thoughts and skewed perspective, you do not get to say her name._

     "Do not speak of her." I warned, lashing out. 

     She anticipated the blow, worked her sword around mine in an artful move, and flung my blade away. 

     "We love her." she did not heed my warning. "We lost our sight to keep her safe. And you forced her from our side."

     My leg gave out and I splashed to my knees. The other Salem stood over me, pressing her sword againt my neck. 

     "So selflessly, you let Leliana slip away." she hissed. "So gallant, you gave her an escape from a road that leads to certain death. Out of love, you ruined us. I despise all that you are."

     "Then you despise yourself." I claimed as my chest tightened and my heart burned. 

     "We are one and the same." she answered. "Your thoughts are mine, your emotions are mine, your pain is mine. That is why I have come here, Salem. Not to dissuade you from your mission but to give us the peace we both desire." she knelt down and placed a knife into my hand. "Do it, please. Take my life. End this misery. For both of us."

     I rested the knife against her heart, feeling my mirror image do the same.  _To not feel anymore,_ I thought.  _A simple pressure, a simple action, and peace. It could very well be this easy. Yes. Peace. Write a legend for me, Leliana. Tell the world that I existed, that I fought for them as hard as I could, for as long as I was able. But do me one mercy. Omit this moment, this one moment...where I at last allow myself...to be selfish._

     I pressed deeper on the blade, embracing the mirroring pressure, the knowledge that my other's knife lay against the scar left by Leliana.  _When she thought I was worth saving,_ I remembered.  _When she thought we were worth saving._

     A pleasant pain iced through me as I felt the tip of the blade press through my shirt and against my skin. 

      _I will not ask forgiveness_. 

     I gripped the knife's hilt and reached back, ready for the mirroring blow that would end my life, as I ended her. I struck...felt the wind knocked from my lungs. I fell back against the floor, listening to the sickening crunch of Burrow's jaws around my other's neck. 

     The mabari howled a song of sorrow and it spun through the room, careening off the stone, crashing into my ears again and again and again. He rushed to me, licking my face, leaving bloody streaks of care and devotion. 

     " _Damn you!_ " I shrieked, striking the dog across his muzzle. 

     Burrow withdrew, whimpering. I pushed myself off of the ground. 

     "Why?" I screamed the question that none could answer. "Why can you not let me die!? Why will no one lest me rest!?"

      _What have I done wrong,_ I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.  _It would have been so easy. It still could be._

     I clutched the knife that Burrow had knocked from my hands and held it to my throat. 

      _All my suffering. All my pain. It ends now. Damn the Maker. Damn the world. Damn me._

     Burrow's jaw clamped around my wrist, threatening me. My hand trembled, though it was not from the pressure of his teeth. I hung my head, ashamed. I flung the knife away and embraced the mabari, clinging to him with what little strength I had left. 

     "I'm sorry." I whispered, thankful that he alone had witnessed this moment. "Forgive me, please. Forgive me. I...I cannot believe...thank you, Burrow.  _Thank you_."

     He whuffed into my ear, my cruelty towards him already forgotten. I rose to my feet, leaning heavily on my right leg. 

      _I will not be able to walk much farther,_ I realized.  _I have to reach the Ashes. I must...I must prove the Guardian and myself wrong. My resolve is not yet gone. My life is not yet gone. I will press forward._

_Write a legend for me, Leliana. Tell the world that I existed. Tell them that I fought for them, as hard as I could._


	34. A Bard Once More

**Leliana**

    "Of course I'm right." Aaron declared, rocking back on his seat. "Last thing this country needed was more blood bein' shed and a dead king."

     I quieted my anger, forcing my lips to curl upward into an inquisitive smile. "And you blame the wardens for this?"

     "I don't like rabble-rousers." he claimed, wife and daughter nodding assent. "I don't like uprootin' my family and draggin' them to Antiva. No good reason for it."

     "That, I can understand." I nodded, feeling his pain. "Many times have I been forced to move from place to place. It is at times an unpleasant necessity."

     "Aye." Aaron agreed, staring darkly into the fire, grief stamped on his features. 

      _He has lost his son,_ my heart ached for him.  _So many pure and good things have been sundered by this cruel event. And my warden is doing all she can to stitch the gaping wounds in the world. They do not see. They do not care. Forgive me, Salem. I did not see this. All I saw was you, my bright and shining...I miss you. Maker's breath, I want you in my arms again._

     "You are welcome to stay with us, sister." Lisbeth spoke. "At least until you are reunited with your traveling party. We would be glad of the company."

     I looked to Aaron and saw him give his approval. "Be nice to have a companion on the road." he agreed. 

     "I thank you for and accept your offer." I said with as much grace as I could muster.

     It was not simple, not as it had been in Val Royeaux, and even Lothering. I could no longer fabricate a separate personality and sever myself from my beliefs. 

      _This is Salem's influence,_ I cursed.  _So upright, so honest, only capable of showing her true face. Amid my world of deceit and chicanery, trust was mocked as a non-existent dream. Marjolaine drilled it into my mind. Trust no one. Give your heart to no one. I made the same mistake...twice. I trusted Marjolaine...I trusted Salem. Only...Salem never betrayed me. The manner in which she lives obliterates every lesson Marjolaine ever taught me. People can be good. People can be trusted. Love...is real._

     I rose, needing to be away from these people for a moment. Their animosity against the wardens choked me. I knew it was fueled by ignorance and grief, but that made my situation no easier. 

     "If I am not mistaken, I hear a stream nearby." I tried to extricate myself from their company, if only for a moment. "I feel the need to wash off the dirt from travel."

     "By all means, sister." Aaron waved his arm in the general direction of the stream. 

     I lifted a branch from the fire to act as an ersatz torch, and walked down to the stream bed. I knelt and soaked my hands in the water, scrubbing at the dried blood still caked underneath and in the beds of my nails. Morrigan's blood. Salem's blood, so beautifully tainted. Life had marked her with a cruel destiny and she had risen to the occasion, becoming the strong, even-tempered leader I had come to love. 

      _Whom I was not strong enough, nor pure enough, to stand beside._

     I splashed water on my face, washing away the tears that had caught me unawares.  _How long will I weep for you?_ I wondered, already knowing the answer.  _The rest of my existence. Eternity. Beyond death and into the Fade, I will mourn the loss of you in my life._

     Another voice argued in the back of my mind. It told me that I could return; that I could throw myself at Salem's feet and beg her forgiveness, that I could feel her arms around me and bask in her acceptance of my flaws and my scars. 

      _I have gone too far. To return now would be to drive my blade further into Salem's heart. I have been cruel to her; I will not be brutal. I will not wound her further._

     "You are no Chantry sister, are you?" a cold voice rang behind me. 

      _Shira,_ I curved my lips into an innocent smile and turned to face her,  _I knew she was talented. I did not even hear her approach._

     "Of course I am." I removed the Chantry talisman I always wore around my neck, giving her proof of my claims. 

      _A gift from Salem...and such a gift. An emblem of a life I wished to forsake for her. She gave me a security to return to, should the moment that arrived...ever be._

     "What reason would I have to lie to you?" I asked, sizing up the young woman before me. Firm muscles, a ready stance. She had trained with weapons, though not extensively. She sought to protect her family in her brother's absence. My heart went out to her. 

     "You were skulking in the shadows and not at all ill-at-ease with wandering through the woods, though you claimed to be lost." Shira claimed, staring into me with keen grey eyes. "And then you clearly steer the conversation to the topics of political goings on and the actions of the wardens. You're not from Ferelden, either."

      _Clever, clever girl!_ I cocked my hip and smiled, knowing that my ruse had been uncovered. "Everything you have said is true," I spoke without the altering of my voice, "though not the first. I am indeed a lay sister of the Chantry."

     "And an Orlesian spy!" she exclaimed, pulling a knife and holding it to my throat. 

     I did not resist. Aaron and Lisbeth had lost too much already. I would not take their daughter from them. 

     "There is no need for violence." I lifted my hands, showing her that they were empty.  _Do not press this,_ I prayed,  _I **will** kill you if my hand is forced. _ "I intend no harm to your family or this country. I am but a traveler who is grateful for the kindness of strangers in dark times. If you wish, I will make my excuses and depart."

      _Damn it!_ I swore, internal.  _Those were Salem's words...in my voice. Her calm, her presence of mind, her desperation to end the violence and the bloodshed that has run rampant in this land. She is within me so deeply that I do not know my own self separate from her._

     In answer, Shira pressed the blade deeper. "Why are you here?" she demanded. "This place is deserted. You must be running from something."

      _I am, but it is not what you perceive. I...I am so weary of running._

     Moving faster than most had any right, I clutched her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her to drop her dagger to the ground. If I moved one fraction of an inch, her arm would be broken and shoulder dislocated simultaneously. 

     "You have seen more than most." I accorded her a triumph, keeping my voice calm. "But you cannot even tell if I am lying. You have no reason to believe me. Therefore, I must subdue you if we both wish to walk away from this with our lives. I am not your enemy, Shira."

     "We heard rumors that Orlais was sending spies." Shira gasped out from between clenched teeth. "Ferelden is weakened. Your accent is reason enough for any city to see you hang."

      _This country is not safe for me any longer._ I realized.  _If I am not with Salem and her mission, then I cannot risk opening my mouth to any, lest they react like this girl._

     "You do not stand a chance against me." I informed her. "But I am going to let you go. If you reach for your knife or try to harm me in any way, I promise you more pain. Do we have an accord?"

     "We do." she spat. 

     I relinquished my grasp and she stood, flexing her shoulder and rubbing her arm. In a show of trust, I lifted her knife from the ground and extended it, hilt first. She wrenched it from my hand, unhappy that she had been bested. 

     I opened my mouth to speak when I heard the horses  _scream._ A new scent choked the air, death and fear and blood. Fresh blood. Tainted blood. I would know that stench anywhere. 

     "Darkspawn." I whispered. 

     I had never faced the creatures without a warden at my side. My bow had been left behind at camp...all I had were my daggers. 

     "What do we do?" Shira asked, turning from enemy to ally in a blink. 

      _What Salem would do._

     "We have to protect your family." I breathed. 

     As soon as the words left my mouth, we were running for the camp.  _Maker protect me,_ I prayed.  _Salem...I wish you were here._


	35. A Question of Worthiness

**Salem**

    I breathed a sigh of relief as the last portion of the bridge snapped into reality with a resounding crack. 

      _Damn magic and its myriad intricacies._

     With the help of Burrow and two large stones, I had managed to activate the bridge across the chasm my mabari had saved me from falling into. The smell of blood, my blood, was thick in the air. I forced myself to my feet and Burrow stepped under my hand, supporting me. 

     I limped forward, across the bridge, thanking Burrow for getting me there, for having saved me from myself, from the chasm...from everything. 

      _Although I wish it were Le...no matter. Those thoughts have no place here. I must be close. Dear Maker, let me be close. So...lightheaded._

     I reached the end of the bridge and felt the walls close in on me before opening back into another expansive room. I heard the sound of fire crackling, but smelled no smoke. Heat from the flames washed over me, searing. I lifted my hand to cover my eyes. They were damaged enough; I could not risk scalding them. 

     "Salem Cousland," the voice of the Guardian rang through my ears. "You have passed the trials of the Gauntlet."

     I offered him a weak laugh. I had triumphed thus far, in a very bleak victory. 

     "I am not yet dead." I smiled. 

     The Guardian hummed low in his throat, almost a tone of disapproval. "Many have made it thus far." he told me. "Some hale and hearty, many clinging to life. Now you must face purification, warden. The Ashes lie beyond. If you falter in your resolve, as many before you have, well. Your wound is deep."

      _Purification? Maker's blood-soaked breath. Am I to be judged by Andraste herself, the Maker's Bride? By all accounts, she was the purest heart to walk in all of Thedas; the woman for whom the Maker extricated himself from his abandonment of our world. I am...not fit to stand in her presence._

     "Very well then." I muttered, hearing the Guardian walk away. His business with me was concluded. 

      _Your wound is deep_ , I mocked his last words.  _I have stared eternity in the face as my heart stopped beating. I will face these flames, Guardian, and I will return to a life, that, even if it is not worth living, is worth at least survival._

     "Purity." I whispered, trying to remember what it had been. 

     To have hands unsundered by violence, unstained by blood. This was purity. To have a heart that sought only to save, that reached out to the decency in others. This was purity. To have a soul that balked at violence, that restrained itself in all circumstances, that fought to preserve life. This was purity. 

     All that I had been, once. Until my destiny and blood had been tainted. Then blood soaked my hands and my heart was torn open again and again and again...by friends...by enemies...by love. I remained uncertain about the status of my soul. Perhaps Leliana had not taken that with her, unlike my heart. Perhaps that is why I still drew breath in this world. 

      _Purity. I must face this trial as I first faced the world. Unarmed. Uncovered._

     Slow, with frigid fingers, I peeled off my clothes, shivering in the wash of heat and cold that assailed me from opposite sides. Burrow whimpered and nudged his cold nose against the deep gash in my thigh. His worry was palpable, but I could do nothing to remedy the situation. 

     I began to walk towards what I knew was a solid wall of flame. There was no way around, no gateway through. There was only forward, and thus I went. Burrow flew to my side and I scratched his head behind his missing ear. 

     "Not this time, boy." I told him. 

     A low, mournful howl echoed around the room. He turned away from me and stood stalwart over my clothes and weapons. I prayed I would return to him. I feared I would not. 

     The flames licked around my skin and caught my blood, racing through my body. I screamed as agony washed through me. Streaks of color flashed before my eyes. 

      _No._ I locked my jaw against the pain.  _Not this time; not here. I will **not** lose consciousness!_  

     "... **warden**... **warden**... **warden**..." the flames roared inside my mind, splitting my ears, "... **we whisper to you**... **we whisper**... **gentle**."

     I curled into a ball on the ground amid the flames, holding my ears. 

      _This is a whisper!? Maker's breath, how much power remains here!?_

     "... **we hear**... **we hear the cries**... **your innermost soul is fractured**... **your hands have shed blood**... **innocent**... **innocent blood**... **you stray**... **from Light**... **unworthy**... **we deem you**... **unworthy**."

     I screamed and thrashed as the flames began their work in earnest. To remove impurity from the world. That was their purpose. They had judged me unworthy. 

      _This is not how it ends._ I swore, deafening myself with my own cries.  _This is not how it ends! Calm, Salem. Calm. If they can speak...they must also...understand._

     "Deny me not." I begged, pleading for my life and for the world. The two were intertwined. 

     More thoughts, my final thoughts, spun through my mind as I closed my blinded eyes against the unending agony. 

      _Forgive me, Leliana. I wanted to save this world...for you. Your voice. Your heart. Your music. I want it to ring through the centuries. If ever, at any time since I became a warden, I possessed a shard of purity...it was my love for you. Nothing can sunder that. Nothing can take that from me._

     "... **wait**..." the flames spoke again, and I felt my ears begin to bleed. "... **consideration**... **purpose**... **purity of intent and spirit**... **heart with another**... **another who has departed**... **warden**... **abandoned**... **still loving**... **still pure**... **consideration**... **blessing given**... **pass through**."

     Time ceased. Pain ceased. Slow, I lifted my body from the stones and heard Burrow bark, pure joy. 

      _I am not dead,_  I realized.  _The flames, the final trials, saw the purity of my love; they saw that it superseded all deeds I have commited. Thank you, Leliana. You may no longer be with me, but you will always be part of me. The part that warrants redemption. There is no greater gift to leave behind than that. Thank you, dear heart. Thank you._

     I got to my feet and limped forward, feeling fresh blood sluice down my leg as I moved. There were stairs. I dropped to my knees and crawled upwards, feeling the ground spin beneath me. 

      _Not much farther,_ I forced myself to keep moving. 

     I reached out, grazing my hand against the cold stone of the altar. I used it to pull myself once more to my feet. I reached out, feeling the body of an urn. I opened it, smelling frankincense, myrrh, all other scents used to mask the stench of death. 

      _I cannot believe it exists._ I thought, letting wonder and awe wash through me.  _All this pain, all this heartache...Leliana leaving me...it meant something. It had to have. I must believe that to go on._

     I reached into the Urn, smearing my fingers with the Ashes.  _Let this be truth,_ I prayed, touching the ash to the wound in my thigh. I caught my breath as pain washed through me in a faint, echoing wave. I could feel torn edge of muscles merge and meld, nerves fissure themselves into connection, skin knit itself back together. 

     I ran my fingers along the edge of the wound...what had been a gaping tear was now a faint, even scar. 

      _Thank you, Andraste._ I looked up, feeling tears of hope in my eyes.  _This world may have forced its burdens on me, but you took them upon yourself. I suppose, in the end, that is what separates a true savior from a simple champion. I know my place now, my true mission. Hear my prayer, Andraste. Do not let the Maker keep his silence. This world is worth preserving._

     I scooped up a handful of the Ashes. Enough for Morrigan, Arl Eamon, and my eyes. The rest...the world needed hope in these dreadful times. No longer would the resting place of the Maker's Bride be kept secret. Thedas needed this...needed the last grace of their Maker. 

     I hurried back to Burrow and my clothing, shivering in the chill of the air. I opened a pouch on my belt and deposited the Ashes, then dressed and slung my swords on my back. Burrow nudged me, questioning. 

     "Morrigan first." I answered the question he could not ask. "I have been blind for some time now. Sight can wait."


	36. Brutal, Bloody Metaphor

**Leliana**

    We rushed out of the trees, into the firelight of the camp. Aaron strained against the horses' tethers, trying to calm them. Lisbeth clutched an ancient, battered sword in trembling hands. It would do nothing against darkspawn armor. I knew that and it worried me. 

     "Protect your mother." I told Shira. 

     I could hear our enemies' footsteps. It would not be long until we were overrun. 

     Again, I found myself longing for Salem. Her surety, her blades, her clarity in battle.  _I do not know if I can do this!_ I watched the darkspawn emerge from the shadows, a roving band of hurlocks and genlocks, armed to the teeth and thirsty for blood. 

     "Aaron, leave the horses!" I called. "We have larger worries!"

     "Maker-damned darkspawn!" the man cursed, abandoning the animals and pulling a long-bladed knife. 

      _I have to get them out alive,_ I thought, moving to the edge of the firelight.  _I have to keep them safe. They have no idea of the danger they are in; that the entire world is in._

     "What should we do?" Lisbeth asked, her voice shaking as the darkspawn began to spread out. 

     "Stay back, near the wagon." Aaron cautioned. 

     "No!" I readied my daggers, wishing that I had thought to take my bow to the stream. It lay too far away for me to reach safely. "We cannot have our backs against anything! I have fought them before; please trust me!"

     Aaron's eyes filled with hate. With that one statement, I had revealed my deceit. He had no reason to believe anything that I had told them previously. Only now his life hinged on his ability to trust me. 

      _Maker, I have made a mess of this._

     Before I could receive a frightened man's knife in my back, I rushed at the darkspawn, in close, trying to make their swords as useless as possible. Two strikes from my blades and the first hurlock fell, clutching at the slashes across its gut. 

     I spun around, aiming at the neck of a genlock. As my blade connected, I heard the unmistakable sound of crossbow strings drawn taut. 

     "Archers!" I cried, trying to alert the others. 

      _They must be dealt with...soon!_

     I heard a trigger slam down, a string release, a bolt fly. A human cry of surprise and agony struck my ears. 

     "Father!" Shira's cry. 

      _Maker's breath, Aaron!_

     I rushed at the archers, backpedaling as a hurlock swung his jagged-edged sawblade, trying to cut me in half. I somersaulted backwards, flinging my dagger into the darkspawn's chest as I rose. 

      _I cannot kill them all,_ desperation pounded in time with my heartbeat.  _How do Alistair and Salem **do**_   _this!?_ _  
_

     I snagged my dagger from the hurlock's body and tried to get to the archers once more. Again the pull of strings and the slam of triggers. A crossbow bolt whispered past my ear...another buried itself in my skin, deep between my collarbone and neck. 

     Stunned, I fell to my knees.  _Heavens, hells, and angels! I think the bone is broken._ I tried to lift my left arm and failed.  _Get up! Get **up**! On your feet, Leliana! I have seen Salem fight like fury with far graver injuries than this! I  **refuse** to do any_   _less!_

     I struggled to my feet, making my way to the archers. Instead of facing them head on, I flanked them and approached from behind, slitting the throat of one and kicking the other to the ground. I finished it with a boot to the back of the neck, satisfied as bone crunched. 

      _Oh, Maker, no!_  

     There were four hurlocks surrounding the wagon, cornering the last of the family left standing. Shira. The horses had been slaughtered...I feared Lisbeth and Aaron had fared no better. 

     I forced the pain in my body to the back of my mind. I ran to the wagons, tackling one of the hurlocks to the ground, spearing my blade through its ribcage and into its heart. Shira cried out and I saw a flash of red. 

      _No, no, no!_ I leapt to my feet, under the hurlock's chin, dragging the blade across its throat. It fell with a gargling gasp and I turned to face the last two. Shira lay on the ground. I shoved it from my mind. There were more enemies to face. 

     I threw my dagger, striking one of them between the eyes. It crumpled without a sound. I transferred my dagger from my useless left hand to my right. The last hurlock charged me and I let him take me down to the ground, forcing my dagger between the plates of its armor, between its ribs, and into its lung. 

     I rolled out from under the darkspawn and crawled over the bodies. Aaron had a crossbow bolt in his chest; his eyes were fixed open and glassed over. Lisbeth's throat had been torn open and her head was cocked at an awkward angle. They were both dead. 

      _I failed_ , I shoved down the guilt as I reached Shira's side. Her skin was white. Blood slipped through her fingers as she held her hands over the stab wound to her stomach.  _I've failed all of them._

     I knelt down and her blood soaked into my robes. 

     "Stay with me." I encouraged her, having been in this place in my life more times than I wanted to count. "Breathe past the pain, Shira. I'm going to move your hands."

     Gentle, I pried her hands from the wound, keeping my face impassive, though inside, I faltered. With immediate attention from a healer, she would survive, but here, isolated and alone, there was very little chance of that. Abdominal wounds promised a slow, painful death if left untreated, and I did not have the skill...

     "You are going to be fine." I smiled into her worried eyes. 

     I cut a large piece away from my robe, wadded it up, and pressed it against her injury, trying to control the bleeding. 

     "Stay awake for me, Shira." I ordered. "There might be more. We will have to move soon."

     "No." she whispered, blood showing at the corner of her mouth. "Please...go on...they're dead." her eyes flitted to the bodies of her parents. "Got...nothing...left."

     "They would want you to live." I forced the words between my lips. "They would want you to remain strong."

     "I," she gasped for air, "I don't...want to. Please...sister...have mercy."

     I knew the mercy of which she spoke. The gentle kiss of death that should come from the hand of a friend. Feeling utterly useless, I removed my hand from her wound. The blood flow had already slowed. Unless another human hand intervened, her death would be slow and excruciating. 

     My heart burned as I moved around her body and cradled her head in my lap. My vision blurred and suddenly Shira's dark skin and broad features were no longer there. Instead, I looked into silver-blue eyes hazed with pain and exhaustion, skin as pale as moonlight's gleam. Blonde hair turned to dark as I stared into the face of Salem...a woman who had watched her family killed and her home sacked. A woman who had been wounded in so many ways, and yet did not beg for death. 

      _I could so easily be holding my warden...ushering her into the peace of death...for this is the same position in which she found herself._

     "Go into the Maker's grace, child." I said the words written for such times as this, my voice trembling as the correlation between Shira's wish and Salem's life struck me repeatedly. "Your soul in peace, your heart in love. May you be reunited with those lost, in the world to come."

     "Thank you." Shira/Salem whispered. "Sister."

     I took a darkspawn's dagger from the ground and drew the razor edge across her neck, severing the arteries. Shira's blood sheeted over my hands. It was not a painless death, but it was a quick one, and the sole brand of mercy I could offer her. 

     I bowed my head and wept. I had failed them all. I had tried to protect them from the darkspawn, the evil that ravaged the world, but I was not up to the task. 

      _Salem could so easily have been Shira. Why, my Maker, why? Why is it that, after the loss of everything they know, one soul clings to life and fights to save the world, and another begs for death? I do not understand! Would I have offered Salem the same mercy I gave Shira had I found her at Highever? Would I have taken such a light, such a **force** , from this world?_ 

     I rose and leaned against the wagon, forcing myself to look away from the girl I had killed and examine the bolt embedded in my shoulder. It was too deep to pull out and I did not have the strength to force it through. 

      _How,_ I wondered,  _how did I consider this the best course of action? I am nothing on my own. It is why I have always sought out people of strength. Those like Marjolaine. Those like Salem._

     Tears streamed down my cheeks as I wept for the lives I had lost. Alistair's words rang through my mind. 

      _"Every blow she takes is a thousand deaths; every victory is ten-thousand lives spared._ _"_

     "I'm sorry." I whispered an apology to my warden, for leaving her, for not understanding her position, for not truly  _comprehending_ why she consistently threw herself into harm's way. "Heavens, hells, and angels, Salem, I'm  _sorry_."

     I stood on shaking legs, needing to be away from the death and blood, the stench of my miserable failure as a protector.  _I have to go back,_ I realized.  _I need her in my life. There is...there is no better place in this world for me than at her side. I am breaking to shards after losing three strangers. How much more must **she** feel? And I left her there to carry it...alone. _

      _Salem is the one who chooses to live after losing everything. She is the one who does not beg for mercy...but she extends it to all she meets. She is...she is worthy of love._

I began walking back towards Haven, into a more uncertain future than I had when I departed from thence. I did not know what would happen, or if Salem had even survived her quest for the Ashes. All I knew was that I needed to be near her, at least once more. 


	37. Reluctant Healing

**Salem**

    I re-entered the cavern, listening to Burrow's happy bark as he rejoined our companions. I heard fast footsteps and smelled elfroot. 

      _Wynne_.

     "Salem?" she asked. "Are..."

     Delirious with relief, I embraced the senior enchanter. "The Ashes are real, Wynne." I told her. "They are real, and I have them."

     Wynne stepped out of the embrace. "Praise the Maker." she breathed. "Salem, are you all right? Your leg is covered in blood."

     I shook my head. "It's true." I could not control my excitement, my validated faith, and newfound hope. "The myths and legends are true. The Ashes healed the gash in my thigh, left nothing but a scar. I am fine, Wynne, truly."

     "Your eyes?" she moved on, both caring and businesslike. "Have you..."

     "I thought it best to see to Morrigan's needs first." I anticipated her question. "My blindness is...something I have become accustomed to."

     I could feel Wynne thinking. The others avoided us, sensing the unpleasantness of the conversation to come.

     " _How_ accustomed?" Wynne asked. "I seem to recall a warden who spoke every day of longing for her sight, a warden consistently frustrated with what she felt were her shortcomings. What changed, Salem?"

     I turned my face away, pursing my lips. I knew the answer; I simply did not wish to voice it aloud. 

     Wynne sighed, longsuffering. "It is Leliana, is it not?"

     "Yes." my words were clipped. "It is one thing to know I am alone, Wynne. It is another to see the absence...ever since I lost my sight, I've seen her in my dreams and nightmares. I'm...I'm afraid..."

     "You are afraid that if you regain your sight, you will stop seeing her all together." Wynne finished my thoughts. "She was the last good thing you thought you possessed, and you are afraid she will vanish entirely."

     I laughed, bitter. "I sound like a plaintive child."

     "You sound like a woman who has had everything she holds dear stripped away by a cruel world." Wynne comforted me, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But you must move on from this. There is still much to do, Salem. You will not be alone. While you may not share as deep a connection with the rest of us, we are still beside you in this fight. Please, do not disregard that."

     "I do not, Wynne, I swear." I implored, trying to make her see this through my sightless eyes. "I value each and every one of you."

      _So much so that I am still breathing. But you will not know of that. None of you will. I cannot risk your belief in me._

     "Thank you, Salem." Wynne patted my shoulder. "Let us tend to Morrigan, shall we?"

     The senior enchanter took me by the elbow and led me towards the fire.

     "How is she?" I asked. 

     "Not well." Wynne answered. "Even my spells have not been able to fully repair the damage. She is conscious, but still in a great deal of pain, and she cannot risk moving whatsoever. I am curious to see how these Ashes work. Are you certain..."

     I exposed the tear in my pants, showing Wynne the scar. 

     "This looks old." she ran her fingers along my skin. "As though you had worn it for years."

     "It was a gaping wound not a candlemark ago." I told her. "I am certain, Wynne."

     "I refuse." Morrigan's voice met my ears, weak. "I will not be slathered in the ashes of a fictional savior."

     "You have no choice." I informed her, reaching into my pouch and removing a pinch of the Ashes. Wynne handed me a cup of water and I mixed the Ashes into it. "I need you at full strength."

     "Renewed...and invigorated...are we, warden?" Morrigan attempted her usual disdain, but it was broken by a hoarse cough and a low groan. "Ready...to slay...the rest...of the world's dragons?"

     "I will do what I must." I held the cup to her lips. 

     The stubborn witch turned her face away and I frowned. I did not have time for this. I pinched her nose between my fingers. She gasped for air and I poured the water into her mouth, then pressed upwards on her chin, sealing her lips and forcing her to swallow. 

     "You bitch!" she shouted when I let her breathe. "How dare you!?"

     I moved my hands as she launched herself upwards and struck me across the face. I fell back and laughed. 

     "Feeling better, Morrigan?" I asked, rubbing my stinging cheek. 

     "I..." shock entered her tone, "...I feel fine. No weakness, no pain...this is marvelous. What in hell?"

     I smiled at her disbelief. "Does it matter?" I asked. 

     "I suppose it does not. 'Tis a marvelous discovery though. I am certain you intend to capitlize on this?" Morrigan asked. 

     I felt all eyes turn to me, questioning where we would go from here. "No." I said. "I will give Genitivi leave to spread the word. Ferelden needs healing. Thedas needs healing. We all need hope. I am not going to hide this away and use it for personal gain."

     "Altruistic fool." Morrigan used her affectionate, derisive term for me. "Think of what you could do, Salem, the power you could wield. To cure any malady, heal any wound..."

     "It is not my place." I remembered the fires of purification, how they had judged me and nearly destroyed me. 

     The power of the Ashes did not belong to its discoverer. They belonged to the world Andraste had perished while trying to save. They belonged to the ultimately worthy. 

     "I can think of none worthier." Zevran added his opinion. "It could be useful, Salem."

     "She has already made her decision in this matter." Sten spoke, authoritative. "It is not for us to judge."

     "He's right." Wynne agreed with the qunari. She pressed a cup into my hand. "It is time, Salem. You know this as well as I. You can no longer delay the inevitable."

     I mixed the ashes with water once more, lifted it to my lips, and drank.  _Please,_ I begged with the silence of my thoughts,  _do not let this take what little I have left of her away from me._

     Clean, pure light rushed through my body. Pain speared through my right side before fading. The area was no longer numb. I placed my hand against the skin, feeling the stitches Leliana had left there disintegrate and new scars form. Bruises faded and my exhaustion lifted. 

     "Salem," Wynne's voice, soft, "it is time, child."

      _I'm afraid._ I opened my eyes. They burned as light filtered into them, as colors appeared and objects took shape. Darkness receded and my head began to ache as my lost sense was restored. 

     "Well?" Morrigan arched an elegant brow. Except for the state of her clothing, the witch looked none the worse for wear. 

     "I can...see." I looked around, at all of their faces, into all of their eyes. All but one. 

     My heart hurt, as I had known it would, at the concrete, irrefutable evidence of her absence.  _I almost wish I had remained blind,_ I thought for a brief moment.  _I love you, Leliana. I wanted the first thing I gazed upon to be your beautiful blue eyes. I had pictured it all...a loving look, a rapturous kiss...but these things are not to be mine. I am unworthy, in more ways than one._

     Wynne knelt beside me and squeezed my hand. "Are you well, Salem?" she asked. 

     "In body." I replied, unable to say more. "And for now, that is all that matters. If we are all able to travel, we should get back to the others and start for Redcliffe. We have wasted enough time as it stands."

     "I emphatically agree." Morrigan lifted her satchel and twirled her staff. 

     The others busied themselves with preparations; it was not long before we were ready to leave. I left my armor behind in the cavern. It was too damaged to salvage. 

      _As are my clothes,_ I grinned.  _Little more than rags now. What would my mother say, could she see me in such a state?_

     I looked at my companions and set my mouth in a firm line.  _Once more to assume the mantle of leader._ Burrow came to my side and rested his paw on my foot. I looked down at him, smiling. 

     "Ready, boy?" I asked and he yipped. I inhaled deep, sighed, and gave the order. "Move out."


	38. Beginnings and Brokenness

**Leliana**

     _Oh, Maker, I_   _ **hurt.**_  

     Every joint ached, every muscle burned. I did not know how long I had been walking, but the sky had begun to turn pink in the east. The sun would rise soon. 

      _I do not even know if I am going in the right direction,_ doubt tore at me.  _I do not even know if Salem and the rest will still be there. I was such a fool! Why? Why did I give into my fears?_

     "I should never have left." I muttered, furious with myself with the state I was in, crushed by guilt and sick with worry over Salem. 

      _She was so badly hurt. If she went to find the Ashes in her current state...Maker's breath. Have I realized my mistake too late? Will I return to find them all in mourning, with Alistair left alone to continue the fight against the archdemon?_

     I removed my waterskin from my belt, squeezing the last drops of water into my mouth. My throat still felt dry, though it was swollen with tears. 

      _I was not even able to bury them,_ my thoughts drifted to Aaron, Lisbeth, and Shira.  _I had to leave them to the mercy of the elements. I hope their souls are at rest; I pray that they are not wandering in the Fade. I wish I knew that they would be reunited with their son and brother._

     The sky grew brighter and I shielded my eyes from the waking sun. I could no longer feel the fingers of my left hand. I cradled my left arm against my body, trying to alleviate the stress and pressure on my broken collarbone. The bolt twisted inside my skin from the movement and I bit my lip. I did not know if there were more enemies in the area, more darkspawn, or wild animals who could smell my blood and sense my weakness. 

      _What I would not give, however, for Morrigan taking one of her early morning runs in wolf-form._ I laughed, shaking my head and sighing as I realized I had just wished to see the witch.  _Of them all, she is the one I understand the least, like the least, but any familiar face would be welcome. Even Morrigan's disdainful sneer would be welcome._

     I continued, hopefully towards Haven, straining the limits of my sanity and endurance. I tried to keep my thoughts focused on Salem, remembering her strength, the way she pressed on in the face of impossible odds. How she had first gone to Morrigan after the battle with the dragon, even though she herself was pouring blood. How she had taken Marjolaine's poisoned blade in my stead. How she had first greeted me...

* * *

_The warden stands in the middle of Lothering's tavern, holding her blade against a man's throat. I stand beside the hearth, knowing the time to intervene will soon be here. I have seen this, all of it, in my vision...a tumultuous beginning with the shedding of blood ending in a river of destruction._

_"I should kill you where you stand." the warden growls, pressing the blade hard enough to nick the man's skin. "For believing Loghain's lies, slandering the wardens, and attempting to take my life!"_

_**Now.**_

_"Let him go." I walk forward, making my presence known._

_The tavern-goers stare at me, the reserved lay sister of the Chantry, stepping between two armed combatants. I have done many things far more dangerous, but they had no knowledge of this._

_The warden's head snaps towards my voice. Her eyes meet mine, a fierce, unquenchable, silver-blue flame. I feel myself falter under her gaze._

_**All that...that rage and grief bound up in one soul is unfathomable. How can I tell her,** my throat goes dry,  **how can I look this woman in the face and tell her that I received a vision from the Maker?**_

_"Who in hell are you?" she asks._

_Her accent is rough, thoroughly Ferelden, but her voice...it is deep. Edged. Almost lyrical._

_"I am Leliana, a lay sister of the Chantry." I feel the need to say more, to pour out my soul. I refrain._

_"Oh, Salem," a haughty voice catches my ear and a hooded figure comes nearer with slow, easy strides. "I do believe the Maker disapproves of your violence in this, the most holy of holies."_

_"Quiet, Morrigan." the warden speaks._

_**Salem,** I run her name through my mind, hearing its sound, tasting it at the edge of my lips.  **A name that means peace. The disquiet I sense from her...it is not who she is meant to be.**_

_"What do you want with me, Sister Leliana?" she asks, kinder this time. Her blade does not stray from the man's neck._

_"Look at him." I gesture to the man. "See the fear in his eyes. He is only fighting for his commanding officer, as soldiers do. He can only know what he is told. You have no reason to end his life."_

_Salem cocks her head, quizzical. A sorrow flits across her eyes, dimming the fire, but not extinguishing it. She turns to her hostage._

_"Go back to Loghain." she orders him. "Tell him that the wardens are alive and well, and that they know the truth of Ostagar. Warn him, and pray that, in his wrath against me, he will disregard the messenger who brings him such ill tidings."_

_"Of course." Loghain's soldier replies, nodding his head. The rest of his comrades are dead, and no one in this town will stand beside him. "I will do as you say."_

_"Then go." Salem plants her boot in the man's chest and kicks him away from her._

_He scurries out of the door as though all the darkspawn in the Deep Roads are after him. The warden turns her eyes to me once more and I feel, again, inexplicably drawn towards them._

_"Is that your deed well done for this day, sister?" she questions. "Or must I knot this loose end as well?"_

_"Actually," my voice trembles, something I am unaccustomed to, "I would like to speak to you, warden. In private, if we may."_

_"Alistair, Morrigan," Salem turms to her companions, "wait outside."_

_"But..." the man beside her begins to complain._

_"Outside." she orders. "Now."_

_They both comply, and Salem's eyes are on me again._

_"You seem hesitant, sister. I am not quite harmless, but I do respect the Chantry's neutrality. You kept me from an action I would have regretted. For that, I thank you. Please, feel free to speak."_

_**She is eloquent** , I realize, shocked.  **A trait I thought no Ferelden could ever possess. And the way she carries herself, head high, shoulders back...she must be born of noble blood.**_

_"I...I should like to join you, warden." I want to say her name, to feel it on my lips, but she has not given it to me, so I resist._

_She rests her weight on one leg and crosses her arms, eyeing me, judging me. "Why would a sister of the Chantry wish to aid the suicide attempt of a Grey Warden?"_

_**A glimpse of humor, dark though it may be.**_

_I smile. "I...I..." **heavens and hells, Leliana! Speak. In. Words!** "...I received a...a vision...if you will, from the Maker. In it, I saw that you would come to Lothering. I knew this fight would occur. It is why I waited for you, to prevent what might have happened, an action you yourself said you would regret."_

_**Stop rambling, you fool!**_

_"And?" that is her reply. One word. One question. No shocked laughter, no ridicule, no eyebrow raised askance._

_"I felt it was a message, for me, to aid you in your cause." I stumble as I speak, still attempting to process her reaction...or lack thereof. "I have many skills, Grey Warden. I did have a life outside the cloister once."_

_Salem peers deep into my eyes and I feel as though she can read my very soul. "My father once told me that a man who turns down help freely offered is a fool." she says, an intense grief crossing her features. "Vision or no, I could use another pair of hands. Welcome, Leliana of the Chantry." she extends a blood-stained, well-callused hand. I clasp it in my own. "I am Salem Cousland._ _"_

* * *

      _Salem Cousland,_ I thought,  _the name that began to represent to me the sum of all that was good in the world. I cannot believe I abandoned you, my love. From your first kindness to me to the very last, you remain the only person I have ever known that was...truly pure._

     The village of Haven came into view and I sighed in relief, breathing a prayer of thanks. My legs buckled and I fell to my knees, unable to take another step. 

      _Maker, please...do not...let me be...too late._

 


	39. Letting Go

**Salem**

    The amount of time it took to reach the Great Hall of the temple was distressingly short. 

      _It took us what seemed forever to fight our way through these halls, only to find that the distance can be covered in the span of a candlemark. Maker's breath...I feel as though I have wasted so much time._

     We entered the hall and Alistair rushed up to us. Like an excited child, he clasped hands with Zevran, punched Oghren in the shoulder, and kissed Wynne on the cheek. He looked at me, at my eyes, and a wide smile spread across his face. 

     "You can see!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around me in a fierce embrace. "Thank the Maker." he breathed against my ear before releasing me and holding me at arm's length. 

     "'Twould seem that we are not esteemed in the affections of the  _former_ templar." Morrigan looked up at Sten, a catty smile on her lips. 

     Alistair stepped back and sniffed, eyeing Morrigan with disdain. "I'd sooner hug a cactus naked." he grimaced.

     "A cactus would hold more love for you, 'tis true." Morrigan smiled, clearly having missed her spirited repartee' with my warden brother. 

     Genitivi joined Alistair, nodding to the others and gazing into my eyes. He flinched, but offered a warm smile to cover his initial reaction. I let it go, wishing to avoid another darkening of my spirits. 

     "Brother Genitivi," I extended my hand and he grasped it in his own, "it is good to see you again."

     "Are..." he could not contain his excitement, "...the Ashes, warden, do they exist?"

     Alistair turned towards me, the same question in his eyes. 

     "They do indeed." I smiled, placing my hand on the brother's shoulder. "Do not keep this a secret, Genitivi. Accomplish your research, do whatever you feel you must, but do not hide the Maker's last miracle from Thedas. Do not deny the people hope they so desperately need."

     A fire ignited behind his eyes. "Of course." he gave ready assent. "I will send word to the Chantry in Denerim and begin preparations. Thank you, warden. Bless you."

     "Think nothing of it." I told him. "Now, if you will excuse me, we must be going. Redcliffe is still miles away."

     "Maker guide you in your travels, Grey Wardens." Genitivi bowed in farewell. "May he gave you the strength to bring peace to our land."

     I nodded in return and pushed past him, needing to be rid of this place, this air...everything. I had lost too much here, and did not need the reminding. Burrow and I walked several paces ahead of the group, blocking out the chatter of companions at last allowed to see the sun and feel the relief of a task complete. 

     Alistair walked up to me, sorrow in his gaze. "Salem," he began, lowering his voice, "I am sorry."

      _He knows, then. Very well. It saves my having to reiterate the story._

     I sighed. "It is all right, Alistair. I will be fine."

     "I tried to stop her." he persisted in speaking, even though I craved silence. "I truly did. I said everything I could think of, but she wouldn't be persuaded."

     "I told you, Alistair. I have made my peace with it."

     "Salem," he said my name with great care, as though he were afraid to break it, "you do not have to lie, not to me. I can only imagine..."

     "I've shed my tears for her." I assured him. 

     "Salem, how can you say that?" Alistair questioned the ice in my voice, the lie I knew was shining in my eyes. "You  _love_ her. I may not know much of it, but I do know that you do not walk away from something like that...unscathed."

     I laughed and nudged him off balance with my shoulder. "I walk away from nothing unscathed, Alistair. Least of all this. There are wounds and there are scars. But what can I do?" a note of desperation that I loathed crept into my voice. "She's gone, Alistair. I've crumbled to pieces and railed at the heavens. I can give no more energy to my grief. It nearly killed me."

     "I...I cannot say I understand what you are going through." Alistair offered me a lopsided grin. "But if you need to talk, you know I am always a willing ear."

     "Thank you."

     I would not accept his generosity. The man had his own burdens to bear. They all did. I, who was supposed to be the strongest, the leader, the rock in stormy seas, refused to let them see the still gaping wounds inside my heart. 

      _There is no surmounting this pain._ I realized.  _I will become accustomed to it, grow used to walking with it every day, and gradually it will lose its sting. That, at least, is my hope._

     We left the hall of Andraste's tomb, striding out into the sun. I rolled my shoulders, trying to alleviate the tension caused by this place. So much...so much death, so much blood spilled, so much misguided faith. I wanted to sow the ground with salt and let the vultures come to thrive. I wanted to burn every house in this village to the ground. 

      _Still,_ I looked back at the mountains,  _there is beauty here as well, and things worth preserving. Let others come for healing. As for me, I will never walk this way again. I do not believe the others will either._

     From behind me, I heard Zevran and Oghren's enthusiastic recounting of the battle with the dragon. Alistair plied them with questions and Morrigan inserted witty barbs. I glanced back at Wynne. The healer lifted her hands in resignation and surrender. I smiled, wishing Leliana was by my side, able to share this moment. 

      _A victory for the wardens, for our cause. Arl Eamon's life will be saved, and Redcliffe's voice and army will hopefully be on our side. There is no man living that would not call this a victory...except for me. I gained my sight and lost my heart. For that is the life that is allotted unto me. Am I right in these thoughts, Maker? The few must walk the ways of consistent suffering so that others may strive for righteousness without pain. If that is my duty, and your destiny for me, I humble myself. If you feel I must be denied joy, so be it. I accept this._

     We stood at the gates of Haven and I shook the earth from my feet, striding forward. I did not wish to spend a moment more here. I looked to the sky, shielding my eyes from the light that they were still unaccustomed to. The sun had almost reached its peak, but we would be able to cover a good deal of ground before nightfall. 

     Burrow barked, his tone different. I looked at my mabari, quirking an eyebrow. 

     "What is it, boy?"

     He yipped again, a high, joyful note.  _A greeting,_ I searched my thoughts, trying to remember when I had heard him sound this way before. 

     "Burrow, what are you telling me?" I looked around, saw nothing. 

     The mabari took off, running up the road to a small copse of trees. I followed, hands on my swords. I would have sensed if it were darkspawn... _perhaps Burrow smells more of Eirik and Kolgrim's fools, re-grouped and making another attempt at vengeance?_

     A figure lay prone beside the trees, almost obscured by the tall grass. I drew closer, noticing the body was dressed in the robes of the Chantry. Burrow stood over it, whining. My heart raced in my chest. 

      _It cannot be._

     I began running, stripping my weapons from my back to increase my speed. 

     I slid to my knees in the grass and Burrow moved out of the way. Though my hands trembled, I tried to be gentle as I turned the woman onto her back, examining the blood-stained and torn robes. 

      _Leliana..._

     My throat tightened, but now was not the time for tears. There was a crossbow bolt embedded in the flesh just above her collarbone. The elegant line of the bone had been sundered...broken. I took her hand in mine, feeling at her wrist for a pulse, noticing the cool temperature of her skin and a blue tinge around the nail beds. 

     "Leliana?" I whispered, doubting the truth of my eyes. 

      _How do I know this is not just the hallucination of a once-blind woman driven mad by grief? I cannot...blessed Maker...if this is a dream, I do not wish to wake._

     "Leli?" I pleaded, and Burrow whined. 

     Her fair skin had been burned by exposure to the sun and I cursed, wondering how long she had lain here.  _That bolt was fired from a darkspawn bow,_ I recognized the raven-feather fletching.  _When did she encounter them...no...there will be time for questions later. Andraste's ass, Salem, do **something!**_

I moved to Leliana's right side and lifted her in my arms, carrying her back towards the town I had sworn to leave behind me. 

     "Wynne!" I called as I approached the others. "Wynne, please, I need you!"

     The senior enchanter broke from the group and hurried to me, eyes firing with alarm. "Good heavens, child, what has happened?"

     "Burrow found her." I explained what little I knew. "We have to go back to Haven."

     "Of course." Wynne nodded. "Take her to the house where I cared for Genitivi. A great deal of supplies were left there."

     I nodded my agreeement.  _Damn me,_ my gut tightened.  _She is badly hurt, but there are only enough Ashes left to cure Arl Eamon. And those trials...I could not ask another to subject themselves to that horror. The Guardian will not let me pass through again. This, I know for certain._

     I gazed down at the woman in my arms, pulling her tighter against my body.  _Did they attack as you were leaving, Leliana?_ I wondered.  _Or...were you returning?_ _  
_

     I squelched the faint hope that sparked through me. Legends were written to escape from reality. I was no hero, this was no tale, and I had never before received a joyous ending. 


	40. The Cracks in Our Hearts

**Leliana**

     _Soft_. It was the first thought that entered my mind.  _The last thing I remember is...sunrise...guilt...the road...collapsing into the grass._

     "We have to get the bolt out." a kind voice filtered into my ears from what seemed leagues away. "It has been in there too long, and we cannot risk the wound festering."

      _Is that why I feel that some angry hand has stuffed flaming cotton between my ears?_

     I knew all too well the slow horror of infection, of the flaming burn from the wound, the sweating from the fever, shaking from the chills and ripping open scabs. My heart began to race, remembering crawling through the dungeons of Val Royeaux, the cuts on my legs splitting and oozing blood and pus. 

     I opened my eyes, desperate to know that I had not returned to the land of my nightmares. I could see blurry outlines, moving figures, solid furniture. 

      _I have been found,_ came the groggy realization. 

     A face hovered over mine and as I blinked, the blurry lines cleared. Kind, watery blue eyes gazed at me with concern. 

     "Wynne?" my voice came out harsh. 

     "Here." she held a cup to my lips. "Drink slowly. You've been lying in the sun for quite some time, and you've lost blood. You are dehydrated."

     I took cautious sips of the water, feeling it cool my throat and clear my head. It smelled sharply of herbs, and I knew that Wynne had mixed them into the drink to ease my pain. 

     "When did...how long?"

     "Burrow found you along the road." Wynne answered, placing a cool cloth over my brow, providing instant relief from the horrific headache. "Now stop asking questions. Your body needs rest, do not let your mind overtax it." She looked into the corner of the room. "Salem, I need you here."

      _Salem!_ My hear leapt with equal parts joy and terror.  _She is alive. Thank the Maker._

     I gathered what little strength I had and tried to sit up, forgetting my injury for a moment and using my left arm to support me. I fell back onto the pillows, gasping for breath as pain radiated through my body. 

     "Leliana, lie still." Wynne ordered, removing the cloth from my brow and dabbing at the sweat that had run down my face and neck. 

     I heard movement and looked around the room, watching the warden crossing to the bed from out of the shadows. She looked to Wynne for guidance. She would not look at me. I could see the new scar on her cheek, an attractive, swirled smear of indigo and scarlet. In truth, it looked more like a well-done tattoo than a wound left by dragon's fire. 

     "What can I do?" she kept her voice carefully controlled, betraying no emotion. 

     I closed my eyes, holding in my tears. I had not expected this rush of emotion at the sight of her; nor had I anticipated the pain of her unvoiced rejection. My heart  _hurt_.

      _What did you think, Leliana?_ I chastised myself.  _That she would run into your arms, kiss you, and all would be forgiven and ended? You abandoned her for a life that you could never hope to claim. No matter the penitence you show, you should not expect forgiveness._

     "I am not strong enough to push the bolt through." Wynne replied. "And cutting it out is not an option, not with the broken collarbone. I also believe our bard would prefer your ministrations to the witch's."

     Salem's lips quirked upward in an unwilling half-smile. "I'm sure."

     Wynne moved to my side and brushed my hair out of my eyes. "Leliana," her voice was so kind, "you're been hit with an arrow. Do you remember?"

     I closed my eyes, willing away the memories of the darkspawn's masscare of the family I had failed to save. I did not want to think of Lisbeth's broken neck, Aaron's still, bloody chest, and Shira begging me to give her mercy. 

     "I do."

     "The bolt is still in your shoulder." Wynne continued. "Salem is going to have to remove it. I've cut away your robes so that no cloth will be dragged into the wound."

     "I understand." 

     The pain would be terrible. I dreaded it, and I looked at Salem, though her face was turned from mine.  _Will you use this opportunity to make me feel the pain I put you through,_ my pettier mind wondered.  _Will you use the pain of the body to take vengeance for the agony of your heart?_

     Wynne's brows lowered in concern. "Your collarbone is broken, Leliana. This will be very painful."

     "I trust you." I whispered. 

     The healer propped me up, her weathered hands as gentle as they could be. Salem looked into my eyes at last, and I flinched. They were no longer blind and...somehow scarred. There were no visible lines, no marks, but to look into them, that beautiful, damaged silver-blue...I could tell from a glance that she had stared into the face of eternity. Death lived in her eyes, a fearsome spectre that made me flinch. 

      _It is as though I am gazing into my own mortality_. I turned my face away, unable to bear her gaze any longer. 

     "May..." her voice caught, "may I touch you, Leliana?"

      _Maker's breath, what have I done?_ Agony of soul chimed with that of body.  _She, whose hands possessed me, whose mouth devoured my very spirit...she has every right to be angry, because I left her side. But no...she is kind enough to ask permission to heal my wounds._

     I nodded, unable, in that moment, to speak. 

     "Forgive me." she whispered, so low I barely caught the words. 

     My throat tightened with grief.  _How could I have doubted your innate nobility?_ I berated myself.  _How could I think you would stoop to such a level as to derive joy from my suffering._

     Salem placed the flat of her palm to the bolt, and covered her right hand with the left. Wynne sat behind me, shoring up my body with hers. Salem pressed on the bolt with a sharp, harsh movement, driving it through my skin. The edges of broken bone jarred inside my flesh. 

     A scream I could not restrain rang through the room. A sickening, squelching sound caught my ears as the bolt burst through my skin. Salem pulled a knife and sliced off the fletching. She tossed the feathers onto the ground and nodded at Wynne. The senior enchanter gripped the bolt and pulled it through. 

     I sobbed as the bolt slid through my skin, feeling my body begin to shake from the pain. I felt cold and nauseated as I felt warm blood slip from the wound and trail down my back. 

     "It's done." Wynne murmured soft.

     Shuddering, I collapsed forward, into Salem's arms, breathing heavily. The bridge of my nose rested against her shoulder and the tremors stopped as her strength enveloped me. Tears of agony and anguish poured from my eyes and I felt her strong, callused hand stroking through my hair. 

     "I've got you." she breathed, reassuring me, calming me, causing my racing heartbeat to slow. "I've got you."

     "Salem, we need to switch positions. I need to realign her collarbone."

     Salem's warmth left me and reappeared as she sat on the bed behind me and gathered me in her arms, supporting me from behind as Wynne's hands began to glow, assessing the wound with magic. 

     "Grit your teeth, child." she ordered. 

     I did as she asked, letting Salem grip me as Wynne's fingers brushed under the broken edge of the bone and  _pushed_ , forcing it back into place. Cries of pain broke from my throat and I attempted to move, to stop Wynne, but Salem held me fast until the mage finished. 

     I gasped for breath, feeling as though I could not fill my lungs. Salem's grip tightened and I could sense her worry. Wynne rose and pulled two other pillows from the bed, using them to elevate my legs. 

     "Breathe slow and deep, Leliana." she counseled. "This is highly unpleasant, but you mustn't go into shock."

     I nodded and felt a strong hand rubbing up and down my back, soothing me and helping calm me until I could breathe easier. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I prayed for the cessation of pain. 

     Wynne stood at the bed and placed her hands on the entry and exit wound of the bolt. Blue healing magic wisped around her palms, infusing my body, stopping the bleeding, burning away infection. Salem held me still as Wynne applied an herbal salve to the wounds and bandaged them with deft hands. 

     "I know you are in pain, Leliana." I focused on the calming cadence of her voice. "But the magic and herbs will begin to work very soon, and you will be fit and feisty in no time at all."

     Wynne moved to a desk and washed the blood from her hands in the basin of water that sat atop it. Salem moved off of the bed and eased me back onto the pillows with excruciating gentleness. She replaced the cool cloth on my forehead and stroked away my tears with her thumb. I still could not meet her eyes, afraid to look at the death they promised would come. 

      _How is this possible? How can I fear her gaze...I, who breathed but to drown in her eyes...this is beyond cruel. Maker, how could you mark your most beautiful in such a way? How?_

    Wynne appeared once more, cup of water in hand. "Drink." she urged, pressing the cup to my lips. "You need it."

     I complied, even though my eyelids fluttered and black danced before my vision, swirling shadows of blissful oblivion. My hand shook and Salem steadied the cup with her own sure grip. 

     "Good." Wynne rested her hand against my cheek. "She has a slight fever." the healer spoke to Salem. "It will take the magic a moment to begin the healing in earnest."

     "As you say." Salem did not sound herself, but this did not surprise me. 

      _What must she have thought, seeing me half-dead on the road? Although, I do not even know if it was she that found me. It could have been Zevran, Alistair...any of them really._

     "I am afraid we must remain here at least another day." Wynne spoke. "I am sorry, Salem. I know you were eager to get to Redcliffe."

     "The Arl can wait another day." Salem glanced back at me. "I will not lose anyone if I can avoid it."

      _Unlike me. I am able to protect no one. Not even you, dearest warden. I could not keep you safe from my traitorous heart. Who am I to ask to return to your side? I will only be a hindrance...I will only...slow you down._

     My shoulder began to burn as Wynne's magic began working in earnest. A groan I could not stifle slipped past my lips. 

     The senior enchanter lifted my hand and squeezed it. "Sleep, Leliana." she urged. "It will do you good."

     Grateful, I closed my eyes, letting the black overtake me. In my dimming vision, two shattered, silver-blue stars shone out. I could have sworn they sang blood-choked lullabies. 


	41. Scars in My Eyes

**Salem**

    I watched Leliana fall into an uneasy, feverish sleep. Her eyes worked, frantic, beneath her lids. I felt helpless watching this. It had taken all my will to keep my hands steady when I had forced the bolt through her skin. My heart had threatened to beat out of my chest when she cried in pain and fell into my arms. My fingers trembled as I held them before me; they were stuck to each other with Leliana's blood. 

      _She would not meet my eyes, even though they held no anger. Neither would Genitivi when we came back to the temple. Why? What has changed?_

     Wynne walked to me, drying her hands. She offered a comforting smile. 

     "You are trying so hard not to love her." she said. It was not a question. 

     I sighed. "I do not know where we stand." I admitted. "All I know are my own feelings, and I will not burden her with them."

     Wynne sat beside me on the edge of the bed. "You have a nobler soul than most." she told me. "Even my hands might have been...untender...when dealing with one who had left me."

     "I doubt that." I offered a smile before looking away, down at my crimson smeared hands. "Wynne," I broached the question that had been nagging me since we had left Genitivi, "what is wrong with my eyes?"

     The healer gazed at me, quizzical. "Why do you ask? Has something changed with your sight?"

     "No." I hung my head, letting my hair shield my face, attempting to conceal my vulnerability. "But Genitivi would not meet my eyes. Neither would Leliana. Is there...is there something wrong?"

     Wynne pursed her lips and her head tilted toward the ceiling, as though she pondered weighty thoughts and sought the proper words to voice them. 

     "They are...not as they were, Salem." she spoke at last. "You have surmounted the clutches of eternity and passed through trial by fire. I see death when I look at you. It haunts your gaze."

      _Maker's breath! Why? Must even my eyes be scarred by this damn Blight?_

     "Then why...why have all of the others been able to look me in the eye without flinching, without turning away. Why have you?"

     I turned my new eyes to hers, piercing them. Wynne merely smiled. 

     "I have been a healer longer than you have lived." she said. "I have stared death in the face and fought it tooth and nail. Alistair is a warden; death is racing through his blood in the form of the taint. Zevran was an assassin; he made his living through murder. Oghren is of the warrior caste, and Morrigan simply does not care. The golem has lived for innumberable years and the qunari take a different view of things than we do."

     I heard her logic; understood it. And yet. 

     "Leliana was a bard." I countered. "Her work with Marjolaine was akin to Zevran's with the Crows. Why would this...this change...affect her?"

     Wynne chuckled, but it held sympathy. "She has the gentlest heart I have ever known, Salem." Wynne answered. "Gentler than even yours. Unlike the Antivan, Leliana has shed none of the burdens of her former life. She carries every life she has ever taken. And she has set herself to a new purpose, the preservation of life, rather than its ending. She loves you, Salem, utterly and completely. To see something she despises in the eyes of one she loves..."

     "Loved." I spoke for the unconscious bard, mine no longer, unwilling to hope that she might have forgiven me, returned to me...returned  _for_ me.

     " _Loves._ " Wynne emphasized the word, the set of her lips and jut of her chin booking no arguments. "It is difficult for her, Salem."

     I rose and pinched the bridge of my nose with blood-slick fingers. "Of course it is." I muttered, letting bitter realization overtake me. "No, Wynne.  _It_ is not difficult for her.  _I_ am difficult for her. I had harbored hope...I do not know. I thought, when I found her, that she might be returning to us. But now...now with this...how can she love me if every time she looks into my eyes she sees death?"

     "Would you welcome her back, even if she had no love left for you?" the senior enchanter asked. 

      _Would I? Maker, I am a fool. I had not even considered...Leliana might still desire to be part and parcel with this mission, though nothing to do with me. After all, how long can one fight against a vision given them by the Maker? Could I bear to be near her, fight with her in battle, only to be parted at the end of the day?_

     "I do not have an answer." I told Wynne. "I would like to believe that I could, but I doubt even my vaunted nobility reaches that far. I apologize if that casts me in a less than flattering light."

     Wynne chuckled again. "It makes you human, Salem." she assured me. "But I believe the bard still loves you."

     "You've said as much." I agreed. "I cannot allow myself that hope."

     "You never do." Wynne shook her head. "I have never seen another who feared hope as much as you do, warden."

     "With good reason." I defended myself. "It has been too often denied me. Even now," I gazed at Leliana, hating the crease of pain between her brows, "even now it lingers just out of reach."

     "You should go for a little while, Salem." Wynne counseled. "Clear your mind, wash the blood from your hands. Wash all of you, in fact. There is a lake a short ways from here."

     "Very well." I took her gentle hint, looking down at my ripped, tattered clothes, stained a muddy brown from dried blood. 

     With a lingering look at Leliana, I left the house and trudged to the lake. Burrow raced up to me and trotted alongside, an ever-present bulwark in this conflicting maze of emotion. He sniffed my hands and whined, recognizing the scent of Leliana's blood. The mabari and the bard had instantly taken to each other. Many a night we had lounged by the campfire, Burrow resting his massive head in Leliana's lap, the minstrel entertaining us with tales of ancient warriors and the legend of the mabari hounds. 

     I wandered into a copse of trees near the lake and divested myself of my clothing.  _I should be able to find more clothes somewhere in this forsaken place,_ I thought.  _This stuff is nearly un-wearable. I do not even think Wynne's needle could mend these tears._

     I eased into the lake, gradually adjusting to the chill of the water. I looked down at my body, at the new collection of scars. The one beneath my breast, near my heart, where Leliana had nearly killed me to save my life. The gruesome pucker in my right side where Marjolaine had attempted to make me her last kill. Three wide swaths of scar tissue curved from the middle of my back, across my side, down across my stomach to my hip bone. Had it not been for my armor, I would have been torn apart by the dragon's talons. 

     I lifted my right hand in front of my eyes, staring at the odd scars left by the dragon's blood. The haphazard lines of healed skin were a strange, royal blue color that mystified me, even if it did possess its own odd beauty. The lines weaved around my fingers, down the palm and back of my hand, mixed with the rough, patchy scars where melted metal had adhered to my skin. I dropped my hand, wondering who would ever wished to be touched by something so disfigured. 

     At last, dreading it, I looked into the water's mirror surface, staring into my own eyes. Their color remained unchanged, but there was a light inside them that had not been there before. It was...cold, dark, discomfitting. 

      _It **is** death,_  I realized.  _It has marked me as surely as any blade. Who...who would desire this body, tattered and scarred? Who could bear to lovingly meet the gaze of eyes that scream of mortality?_

_If...if Leliana does wish to return in order to help us defeat the Archdemon and nothing more, I will accept her. I would ask no one to love this body. I would ask no one to meet these eyes. But,_ I gazed back on the house that held the one dream I yet possessed,  _I cannot cease loving you, Leliana. If you ask that of me, I will refuse._


	42. A Mastery of Mistakes

**Leliana**

    I woke, feeling exhausted. Hazy vision scanned the room. It seemed to be empty. 

      _How long have I slept?_

     "Wynne?" I asked. 

     My words caught in my throat and I coughed, pain spearing through my shoulder though less, much less, than it had been before. I lifted a hand to my head and found that my temperature seemed normal. Wynne's care must have broken the fever. 

     "Is anyone there?" I called again. 

     No answer came. I had been left alone, and I sighed with relief. 

      _If Wynne was comfortable with leaving me unsupervised, then I must be all right. Thank the Maker. I was not too late...at least to return to them. As for me and Salem...I do not know. I could not even meet her gaze. What must she think of me?_

     I needed to find her. I needed to speak with her, to try to understand. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood. My balance wavered, then stabilized. I looked down at myself, at the Chantry robes stained with human and darkspawn blood. I cringed, hating the feeling of filth caked on my clothing and skin.

      _This is not the person I am,_ I realized.  _Yet I came back. Not for this life, not for this mission, not even because I believe the Maker sent me a vision. I came back for the woman whose gaze I can no longer meet. I came back for Salem._

     I removed the Chantry robes and cast them into the fire. They were a symbol of the life I had tried to return to and failed. They had been torn by swords and arrows, been tainted with blood, as had I. I had no more use for them.

      _As I have no more use for who I was before I joined the warden. **The** warden...not mine. Not any longer._  

     I found a basin of water that Wynne had left behind. I cleaned blood from my hands and washed my face, finger-combing my hair into something that resembled order. There was a familiarity to the action that soothed me.

      _Because I loved what my life became, after I met Salem. I served a different purpose. To save life...not take it, not manipulate it. I had thought...I had foolishly thought I might do such good deeds on my own._

     The door of the house opened and Salem entered, wringing moisture from her hair. She stopped short, staring at me. Her nostrils flared as she took a sharp inhale. Too exhausted, too conflicted to cover myself, I simply stood there, feeling the scrutiny of her gaze on my naked body.

     She averted her eyes too soon; my heart ached with the loss.

     "Forgive me." she turned her back. "I thought you would still be sleeping. I'll fetch Wynne."

     Her hand wrapped around the door. It was covered with deep blue, spiderwebbing lines. Scars left by dragon's blood. 

     "No." my voice warbled out, weak and pleading, like a child's. "Salem, please stay."

     Her shoulders tensed, but she closed the door, staying in the room. "Get dressed, Leliana." she muttered. 

      _I remember when you would have given anything to see me like this; keep me like this. I have not been gone so very long, Salem. How can so much be changed between us?_

I complied with her wishes, locating the clothing that Wynne had found in my pack and left for me. I dressed quickly, not wanting Salem to leave, dreading what might next happen. I knew that Arl Eamon's condition weighed heavily in the warden's mind, especially since, I assumed, she had recovered the Ashes. I was well enough now to be...left behind. My chest tightened at the thought. I did not want to be alone, or apart from her, ever again. 

     I turned to her, avoiding her eyes. I did not know if I had the strength to meet them. 

     "What do you want?" she asked, voice made of stone. 

      _Everything,_ my hands trembled,  _nothing. Just you, Salem. You._

     "I...I want to ask your forgiveness." I answered, knowing that no amount of apologies could begin to repair the damage I had done. 

     "Granted." she shrugged her shoulders. "You did nothing wrong."

      _How can you be so cold to me!_

     "That is where you are lying to yourself, warden." I corrected her, feeling heat in my words. "I left you on pretenses that I did not even fully comprehend. Since leaving you, I have suffered a...gruesome epiphany."

     "And?" one word, no tone. 

      _So frigid. I feel as though the warden I knew had been freshly carved from ice and given speech. A stranger stands before me. A stranger whose eyes have death written into them. I need to tell her. I need to tell her what I have seen, what I have realized._

     "Salem, I had no right to ask of you what I did..."

     "Yes, you did." she cut off my words. "I gave you every right to depart at any time you wished. We have traversed this road too many times, Leliana. I have lost my taste and patience for this turn of conversation."

     " _Listen to me!_ " I shouted as she turned on her heel to leave. " _I was wrong! I **failed**_ _you_!" I felt tears in my eyes, but made no attempt to stop them. "I was so lost, so caught up in my love of you and need of you, that I did not realize the gravity of the burdens on your shoulders!"

     I stood there, breathing heavily, my shoulder throbbing. Salem's eyes flashed. 

     "And you expect me to believe that any of this has changed?" she asked, her voice as insufferably controlled as it had been on the mountainside when I railed against her. "You think you can twist your tongue, weave a line of poetry, and  _convince_ me that at last you understand?"

     " _Hear me out!_ " I begged, wishing for the eloquence she attributed to me. "Please, Salem, I beg of you. Hear me out."

     "Why?" she asked, striding towards me. "Why play at pretense?" she stood before me, a palpable presence, all grief and sorrow and hurt. "Look at me." she entreated, voice gentle, kind, loving, the Salem who was not made of ice. 

     I averted my eyes, unable to bear what I would see in hers. 

     She grasped my chin in her scarred hand and wrenched my eyes to hers. " _Look at me!_ " she sounded like thunder. "Gaze into my eyes and tell me you have seen the error of your ways, that  _at last_ you  _truly_ understand!"

     I stood there, transfixed, struck by terror, in awe of the...power...inside her new eyes. My heart fluttered in my chest and blood drained away from my face. For the first time since I had known her, I was  _afraid._ Afraid of Salem, the woman whose heart was too kind, too noble; the woman who erased fear with her presence and calmed wars with an evenly spoken word.  _  
_

     "Is  _this_ what you want, Leliana?" she asked. "You wish to return to  _this_? To eyes you cannot even meet? You asked but one thing of me, and it was so precious little. I could not give it to you and it  _tore me apart._ This...this is my fate." she took a deep breath, appearing vulnerable for the briefest of moments. "You cannot accept it, and I have no right to ask such a thing of you."

     "I can accept it." I bolstered myself, closing my eyes. "I can."

     In disgust, Salem tore her hand from my face and backed away from me. 

     "Do you know what is is, Leliana,  _to touch the face of god?"_  she whispered. "I stood in the holy of holies and laid my hands on the body of the Maker's Bride. I saw evidence that the Maker exists; I re-affirmed my struggling faith, found my blindness healed, only to discover that my eyes are scarred with  _ **death**_ ** _itself_**!? Tell me again how you can accept this!"

     "Because I love you!" I screamed, unwilling to bear it any longer. 

     The words hovered between us and the air turned brittle. Salem pinched the bridge of her nose and I ran my hands through my hair, uncertain of what to say, or do, next. 

     At last, the warden sighed. "That did not sway you last time." she said. 

     Before I could speak in my defense, she opened the door and left. I sank down onto the floor, beside the bed, unable to stand on my shaking legs any longer. Tears coursed unhindered down my cheeks. 

      _I have lost her,_ I realized.  _I may have returned, but Salem...is gone._


	43. Telling Painful Truths

**Salem**

     _You fool!_ I hurled recriminations at myself as I leaned my head back against the door.  _That went all manner of wrong. Go **back** , Salem. Go back and apologize. Tell her your true feelings; give her your true heart. _

I warred against all that lay within me and clenched my hands into fists.  _But...I did speak the truth. She loved me before and claims to love me still...and yet she left._

     Morrigan walked by the deck of the house and paused to glare at me. 

     "Go back." she said, staring into my eyes with the same aloof nonchalance she always had. 

     "What in hell are you talking about?" I asked, not needing or wanting the strain of interpreting the witch's cryptics. 

     "The songstress, of course." Morrigan answered. "'Tis plain to see your foolish, imbecilic heart is breaking. You cannot afford the strain. So go back."

     "This is none of your affair." I growled, stepping off of the deck and confronting her. 

     "Your well-being is all of our affair." Morrigan tilted her chin with a haughty air. "Seeing as you carry our lives on many occasions. And, after all, 'tis not every day that one can claim friendship to the savior of Thedas."

     "I'm no savior." I muttered, turning my eyes to the earth. "And this world will be damned, no matter who attempts its rescue."

     "If you believed that, in truth, then none of us would be standing here,  _least_ of all Leliana." Morrigan quipped. "I saw your eyes, warden, as you carried her from the road. They  _screamed_. How long will you torture yourself?"

     "As long as I must." I replied, meeting the witch's gaze once more. "I have nothing to offer her."

     "From what I have heard of it, love should be enough." Morrigan glanced over her shoulder, ill at ease with the turn of conversation. Confrontational arguments were well within her sphere of comfort. Affairs of the heart were a different matter. 

     "It obviously was not." bitterness coated my tongue. 

     "Afraid your little nightingale will once again spread her wings?" Morrigan asked. 

     At any other time, it would have been a taunt. Not now though. Her...sincerity?...shocked me. 

     "I am." I hung my head. 

     "You are unutterably ridiculous." Morrigan scoffed. "Salem Cousland, the mighty Grey Warden, is afraid of her own heart. How the archdemon quivers with  _fear_."

     "Stand down, witch." I warned her, eyes flashing. "I am not in a gentle frame of mind."

     "Of course you are not. Your gentleness departed with her. You have the chance to reclaim it, Salem. 'Twould be best you do it soon, lest the death in your eyes swallow you whole."

     I stepped back, more stunned than I would have been if Morrigan had struck me. 

     "Do not think me ignorant." the witch continued. "I watched the men that Flemeth held captive saw at their own limbs in desperation for freedom. I witness that same despair in you, Salem. I may be ignorant of love, but I will not coddle you as the others do. You feel there is a rift, mend it. You are afraid, face it. You will be hurt again and you  _will_ hurt her again. There is no surmounting that. If this is your true desire, grow a  _spine_."

     I stood there, frozen by this new face of Morrigan.  _I never thought the witch possessed this capacity for understanding emotion. How very wrong I was...and very blessed to have companions such as these._

     "As you say." I said, humbled. I turned back to the house, looking over my shoulder at the witch, who met my eyes with a steady amber gaze. "Thank you."

     She departed with a warning. "Mention this to Alistair or the Circle sycophant, and I will flay you with my mind." 

     I chuckled at her ire for a brief moment, watching her stalk away. Breathing deep, I prayed to whatever god would listen. 

      _Give me strength._

     Timid, hesitant, I opened the door and entered the house. I closed the door behind me and bit my lip. Leliana sat against the bed, head on her knees, sobbing. I approached her, wary. I knelt down before her, wanting to reach out, but I restrained my urge and stilled my hands.

     "Leliana." I whispered her name, feeling my heart ache as the syllables crossed my lips. 

     She looked up, eyes bruised with exhaustion and red with tears. "Have you come to break my heart?" she asked. "As I broke yours?"

      _You feel there is a rift,_ Morrigan's edict flashed through my thoughts,  _mend it. And this rift can only be mended with truth. Painful truth._

     "You did break my heart." I told her. 

     I did not look her in the eyes. I would not be that cruel again. If she could not bear my gaze, I would not inflict it upon her. 

     "I know."

     "And, if you had left at any other time, Leliana...I would have shattered." I forced the words to be calm, measured.  _I will not accuse her._ "I know how much I have hurt you, but I cannot lie any longer. I cannot pretend that I am not bruised, that I am not also wounded, that you have not hurt me. Because you have. I was...so broken. So broken and despondent that I forsook the help of all the others and went to seek the Ashes alone."

     Her eyes flashed to mine for a brief moment, full of needless worry. 

    "Salem..." she breathed. 

     I lifted a hand to forestall her words. I needed to speak. I needed her to know... _how much I still love her._

     "I ran a gauntlet." I whispered, fading back to the horrible apparitions of my father and my Self. "Full of trials meant to weaken the mind and test the soul's resolve. I saw...ghosts...visions. Each one taunted me, reminding me that you were gone; that you had left me because of my weakness. I was so exhausted, so sick with grief, longing so much for that pain to end...I reached the limit of my endurance." Tears of shame filled my eyes. "I...I nearly drew a blade across my throat, Leliana. If Burrow had not stopped me..."

     I faltered, unable to speak as emotion choked me. The memory of that grief was fresh, and would be for some time. 

     "Maker's breath." Leliana whispered, tears slipping beneath the lids of her closed eyes. 

     "The last trial was purification...a test, to see if I was worthy of the Ashes." I did not wish to say more, but she needed to hear this.  _She needs to know._ "I walked through flames...so hot and fierce I could swear they were the breath of the Maker himself. They peered into my very soul...and judged me as unworthy. I almost burned alive."

     "Then how?" she asked. 

     "You." I answered, fighting to keep my hands from taking hers. "My last fading thoughts were of you. Of the love we share. Of how much...how much I regretted letting you go. How much I love you still. Only after they saw the purity of what I felt for you did they let me pass through to the Ashes. You were the sole reason for my success."

     Leliana lowered her head, shielding her face with her hair. "I...I do not know what to say." she admitted. 

     Unwilling to restrain myself any longer, I reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. She gasped and my heart jerked. I wondered if I had overstepped, but it was too late to retract my actions. 

     "You said all you needed to before." I assured her. "I was...I  _am_...afraid. I am scarred by all tha thas happened, in heart, in body, in mind. It terrifies me that history will repeat itself; that what we have endured will transpire again. Because I will be wounded again, Leliana. I will throw myself into harm's way to protect those I can. No matter how much you beg, how much you weep, I must be Ferelden's shield against this Blight. Knowing this...it is taking all my strength to stand before you and say these words. Even now, I tremble. Even now, I want to flee."

     "Please." she whispered. "Don't."

     Her words struck a spark of hope in my heart. I spoke before it extinguished. 

     "I have...less to offer you than before. I cannot give you a body that is whole or a future that is guaranteed. I cannot promise you a day without hardship. All I have left is my love."

     She looked at me, holding my gaze for as long as she was able, her breath held, her heart waiting for my next words. 

     "If you will have it...it is yours."  _It has been for so long._

     Leliana surged forward and wrapped her arms against mine. She pressed her lips against my own in a kiss that was anguish and fury, heartache and fire, passion and remorse. Shocked, I fell backwards onto the floor. Leliana followed, covering my body with her own. 

     I cradled her hips with my hands, kneading my fingers into her back. She bit my neck in response and I gasped. Rational thought began to recede; hurt and grief begged to be forgotten, destroyed in a storm of passion. 

     I placed my hands beneath her shirt and ran them along her perfect, cellic curves, stopping and tracing each beautiful scar. She had always been so ashamed of them. I had always adored them. They made her who she was...and I loved her. 

     Her lips met mine again in a furious, passionate tangle. I could taste grief, bitterness, some anger that had yet to fully depart. Her tongue slid along my own in an ancient dance and I closed my eyes, surrending to the sensation. 

     "Salem." Leliana broke away, gathering breath and composure. "I know there is still so much more to be said. I know that not all of our fears have been resolved. But, in this moment, my entire body is shaking. It is begging me to touch you, to hold you close...I want to make love to you, Salem.

      _Yes. Please. Hands speak more honestly than words and I have needed you...I have wanted you...I love you._

     Her hands found their way beneath my shirt, stroking the outside of my breasts. I gasped and my back arched the slightest bit. 

     "What about your injuries?" I panted, attempting to control the onslaught of sensation. "Are you certain you want this?"

    Her hands left my breasts and she propped herself up, hovering above me. Light shone in her tear-stained eyes. 

     "Oh, Maker," she whispered, "yes."


	44. Mending Wounded Hearts

**Leliana**

     _Though we may be broken, though we may be bruised, this...this is paradise._

     A contented smile perched on my lips and would not depart. I stared at the ceiling, replete, content. Salem lay curled against me, asleep. Her head rested on my uninjured shoulder and her arm, even in slumber, had wrapped about my waist. 

     I rested my hand against the small of her back, tracing Orlesian poems into her skin with my fingertips. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, savoring her warmth against mine, the feel of her skin; how she had been so heartbreakingly gentle. 

      _Still afraid, still hesistant...still reluctant to believe that this is real._

     She had cautiously removed her clothes, allowing me to take in the ruin that had been made of her body. There were the old scars, the ones I had become accustomed to...and then there were the new. Her entire right side was swathed in scar tissue from the swipe of the dragon's talons. The strange blue spiderweb scars from the dragon's blood were splashed across her back, spreading outward from her spine across the tops of her shoulders. Her right hand and forearm were covered in them as well. 

     I did not tell her, but it worried me. Dragons had been unheard of for many Ages, and had been proclaimed extinct by scholars. There was no way of knowing what effect being exposed to the blood would have on her body, if any at all. 

      _And this scar,_ I stroked the odd, tattoo-like scar that arced across her cheek.  _Is it strange that I find it lovely?_

      I placed a gentle kiss to the scar, tasting the salt on her skin from the exertions of our lovemaking. She had given me all the time I needed to reacquaint myself with her body, shuddering when I traced her scars with my fingers, when I took the curves of her hips in my hands and drew her close to me. She had returned my kisses with ardor and passion, allowing me to take her to the bed, to be inside of her and bring her to pleasure and release. 

      There had been tears in her eyes as she had taken me, as her mouth had closed over my breasts and her fingers had pressed into me, claiming me once again. I had wept with joy, spent myself against her hand and her lips, begged for her embrace. And she had come into my arms, still cautious, almost hesitant, as though afraid the moment would break. Together we had fallen asleep, and I had awakened in her arms, at last feeling whole. 

     I ran my hand up and down her spine, pausing as I felt the muscles in her back spasm. Salem curled tighter against me; her breathing became harsh and uneven. 

     "Salem?" I whispered. 

     Her hand clawed into my side and I hissed at the bite of her nails. Her eyes worked frantically beneath their lids and sweat beaded on her forehead. 

      _I cannot promise you a day without hardship,_ Salem's words ghosted through my thoughts.  _Maker's breath, even after your trials, even after we have fallen back together, she is still trapped in nightmares._

     "Salem," I spoke louder, pressing closer against her, stroking my hand up and down her back. "Salem, wake up."

     She moaned in her sleep and her brows creased in pain. "Salem, love, come back to me." I begged, stifling a cry of shock as her nails gouged into me again. 

      _Maker, please, give her rest!_ I pleaded.  _I hate this. I_ _fucking_   _ **hate** this!_ **  
**

     "Wake up, my warden." I pressed my lips to her forehead, to the dark circles underneath her eyes. "Please, I'm here, I'm here with you."

     A strangled cry slipped from her lips and her eyes flared open. Salem's eyes darted around, lost, trying to center herself after whatever hell she had witnessed. 

     "I've got you." I whispered, the same words she had reassured me with. 

     "Leli?" she asked, voice rough with silent screaming. 

     "You were having a nightmare." I told her, stroking my hands through her impossibly soft hair. 

     "Maker's blood-soaked breath." Salem released her death grip on my side and I winced. 

     She examined her fingernails and found no blood, but she looked displeased regardless. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, folding over to her knees. 

     "Damn it!" her hands clenched into fists. 

     I moved to her, pulling her body against mine, layering her shoulder with kisses. Her muscles knotted under my touch. 

     "Salem..."

     "I'm sorry, Leliana." her black laugh echoed and died. "Trust me to ruin a joyous reunion."

     "Come back." I urged, tugging her back onto the bed with me. "Lie down. You have ruined nothing."

     She turned in my embrace, lowering her eyes. My heart hurt, knowing that she did so for me. I hated myself for my aversion to the scars there. I wanted to meet her gaze without the initial pang of fear. I wanted to look past those scars in that fathomless silver-blue and see to the woman beyond. The woman I loved. The woman who needed me. 

     "Heavens, hells, and angels!" she exclaimed, jarring me from my thoughts. Salem's trembling fingers brushed the bandage on my shoulder, touching the fresh red stains. "Did I..." her voice quaked, "...did I do that?"

     "No, love, no." I assured her, kissing her, silencing her worry. "It is all right; I am all right. Calm yourself, Salem. All is well."

     She lay down beside me with a gusty exhale. 

     "I am a wreck." she stated, blunt. "I feel so very lost, Leliana. I walked through hell and fire and torment, praying for a death that did not come. I found you again and almost destroyed what could have been repaired..."

     "Shhh." I soothed her. "It was not destroyed. What...what we have reagined...it is weak, it is fragile, but we know what it once was and what it can be again...if given time."

     Salem reached up and cupped my cheek. "I do not want to lose you again." she allowed me to see her vulnerable side, a part of herself rarely shown, even to me, even before... _things between us are changing, mayhaps even for the better._

     "You need not harbor that fear." I told her, wrapping my arms around her, entwining our bodies, sharing our weaknesses, hurts, and scars. 

     "What changed?" she asked. 

     My heart sank. I had wanted to delay this conversation, to avoid the spilling of my soul. But she had bared her heart to me. She had revealed herself as she never had before. 

     "I saw the error of my ways." I told her. 

     "Tell me." she entreated, nibbling at the edge of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. 

     "I...I met a family on the road." I remembered Aaron and Lisbeth's welcome, Shira's suspicion, and their horrible death at the hands of the darkspawn. "They invited me to their fire, offered to give me shelter and food. Conversation turned to the state of affairs."

    "Go on." Salem urged, lightly caressing the scars left from my torture in Orlais. 

     "They...they lost their son at Ostagar." I continued, remembering the loss in their eyes...the pain. "And they believed Loghain's rumor, that the battle was lost because of the wardens. I...I could not say anything against that. I was alone, afraid, in pain, and I...I failed to defend you, Salem. I sat there and I listened to their misguided vitriol and I...I  _agreed_. I have betrayed you...twice over."

     Salem hugged me tighter to her, and I felt at home in her arms. "You did what you had to do." she whispered. "I will never fault you for that, Leliana. Never."

      _I do not deserve you._

     "It...broke my heart." I returned to the tale, forcing myself to finish it. "Every thought was of you, how you fought and sacrificed for people who would prefer to see you drawn and quartered in the public square. I tortured myself as I realized how pathetic and  _selfish_  I had been, how ignorant I was of all that you truly faced. And then...then as if all of hell wished to torment me, darkspawn attacked the camp."

     "So that is how..." she trailed off, lightly stroking the bandage wrapped around my injured shoulder. 

     I nodded and tears pricked my eyes. "I tried, Salem."  _Please do not think me weak, do not think me incapable._ "I tried to save them. But the darkspawn were so many, and I the only one skilled with weapons. I could not stop the massacre. They perished because of  _my_ weakness. When all the darkspawn were dead, only I and the daughter remained. She was gravely injured...stabbed in the stomach..."

     "It is all right." Salem soothed me as my voice cracked. "You need not tell me any more. I understand."

      _I know that you do, but your understanding is not enough. I must tell you this. I must let you see me as I discovered myself. Weaker than I thought. Damaged. Useless._

     "I tried to save her." I wept. "I tried...but she...she looked at me and told me that she had nothing left. She asked me for mercy...and I...I gave in. I killed her, Salem. Maker's blood...it might have been you. She had lost her family, her livelihood, all that she had. I felt that it was you I held in my arms, and I did not fight for her. Even as I drew the blade across her throat, I saw your face...I failed you..."

     I began sobbing, drawn back to the terrible night, the horrific realization that I had, however unintentional, killed the one I loved, unmercifully. Salem held me, whispering reassurances and comforts, taking my pain into herself. Forgiving me. 

     At last, I regained composure enough to speak. 

     "I understood then, the gravity of what I had done to you, Salem. I left you with a crumbling world on your shoulders. I forsook you because I could not bear to see you consistently broken. It was idiotic and selfish."

     "No..." she tucked her finger under my chin and attempted to interrupt me, but I placed a finger against her lips and continued. 

     "I realized why, Salem." I told her. "I realized why you throw yourself in front of every hardship, why you take every blow you are able, why you bleed out for the world. It is so that the rest of us do not have to suffer. It is so that many can live their lives unscarred, un-haunted by nightmares. Seeing that, knowing that, I had to come back."

      "Thank you." she pressed her lips against my forehead. 

      "As much as I knew it would be a dagger in your gut to see me again, I had to come back." I forced myself to keep speaking. "I prayed...every minute I prayed that you would not turn me away. I  _need_ you, Salem. You are fixed in me as surely as my own heart, lungs, and blood. I...I am nothing without you."

     "You are everything." she smiled, catching my lips in a tender, re-affirming kiss. "To me, you are everything."

     I melted into her, fitting my body to hers until they were one, a patchwork quilt of scars and hearts intertwined...as was meant. 


	45. The Answer

**Salem**

    A knock at the door roused me from the bed. I threw my clothes on, casting a lingering look at Leliana as she lay sleeping.  _  
_

      _So beautiful._

     I froze the image in my mind, to cling to, to keep my hope alive. 

     I opened the door and leaned against the frame, a sloppy smile on my face that I could do nothing about. Wynne stood there, hands on her hips and a knowing eyebrow quirked upward. 

     "Feeling better, warden?" she asked. 

     "Much." I reached out and embraced the healer. "Thank you, Wynne. For everything. We could not have made it this far without you."

     Wynne, clearly uncomfortable with my rare show of affection, backed away, blushing red. 

     "I am glad that everything seems to have resolved itself. But the night is ended, morning is fresh, and most of us are prepared to get underway."

      _Of course. A warden's duty is never done._ "I understand." I nodded. "We will join you soon."

     I made to close the door and Wynne stopped me. "No distractions?" she asked, slanting her eyes. 

     "I can promise nothing." my smile widened and the mage laughed, muttering something about "lovestruck children" under her breath. 

     I walked to Leliana, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking her hair. 

     "Wake up, dear heart." I spoke in a voice I reserved only for her hearing. 

     I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled into my kiss. 

     "Good morning, my love." she mumbled, only half-awake. 

     I ran my hand along the outside of her thigh, kissing her neck, coaxing her into the morning. 

     "We have to go." I whispered. "Arl Eamon is waiting for us."

     She batted me away from her, playful. 

     "You are an incorrigible tease." she muttered, glaring at me from under tousled red hair. "Wake me with pleasure then slay me with duty. How dare you."

     I laughed as she staggered from the bed, dressed, and combed her hair, skillfully weaving it into the ubiquitous braids she was so fond of. I watched, smiling. 

      _I wish I could give you this forever,_ a pang went through me; faded.  _At least we have this moment to cherish, to remember. That will be enough for me; enough to sustain me through the waves of enemies and oceans of blood we are certain to be forced to slog through. I love you, Leliana._

     I pulled my boots on, fastened my belt, and slung my swords across my back, feeling their familiar weight settle in. When we rejoined the rest of our tag-along party, I would see if Levi could find me better steel. However, until then, I felt certain the cultist's blades would hold. 

     Leliana turned to me, frowning. "No armor?" she asked. 

     I shrugged my shoulders. "Most of it was destroyed beyond repair." I informed her, watching as familiar worry creased her features. 

      _Not this, not now. Not after we have this chance to start again._

     "I will be careful." I promised her. "I swear it. After all, I am no longer going into battle blind."

     It was her turn to falter, to realize that she seldom met my eyes, and when she did it was not long until she had to close her own or look away. I did not know how to reassure her, how to tell her that if I were forced to meet a mirror every day, I was uncertain if I could hold my own gaze. 

     "I apologize." she lifted her head at last. "I do not doubt you, Salem."

     "I know." I walked forward, taking her hands in mine. "We need not traverse the entire ocean at once, dear heart. This...us...will take time."

     "What if there is no time?" she wondered, a question I had asked myself as well. I did not hold it against her. 

     "If it comes to that." I smiled, pressing my forehead against hers, closing my eyes so she need not feel guilty, "I will walk into the heavens and freeze the sun in its place. I love you, Leliana. A glimpse, a candlemark, thirty years...all that I have left belongs to you. There will always be time."

     She drew away, a grateful smile on her lips. "I still do not know how a warden who screams like a banshee in battle and who emerged victorious from a drunken swearing match with a dwarven berserker can possess the level of eloquence that you do."

     "You are deafened by love!" I claimed, wrapping my arm around her as we exited the house. "My speech is as gutter-sunken as the rest of my miserable countrymen."

     She laughed and shoved me away, falling into old, familiar, comfortable patterns. My heart beat faster, with joy this time, not anguish, not fear, not sorrow. 

      _We will be all right,_ I swore to myself.  _There will be moments of doubt, come the future, and if Morrigan is any judge, there will be pain yet again. But there is also hope. Hope for Ferelden, for Thedas...even for me._

     I looked back on the Frostback mountains, whispering a prayer of thanks to the Maker who had not abandoned me. 

     "Thank you." I whispered in the direction of the temple. "Thank you for giving her back to me. I will not fail you. I will not fail her."

      _Rest well, Andraste. Thank you for your gifts._

     Burrow barked with joy as we approched the others, racing to me and Leliana with ridiculous loping strides. He jumped between the two of us, tongue lolling out, begging for affection. All would be well in my world; he knew that now, and his euphoria was catching. 

     Leliana laughed in her musical voice and scratched Burrow behind his one ear. The others approached us. Wynne returned Leliana's bow and I glanced at Morrigan as my bard took her weapon and said her thanks. The witch nodded at me in approval and I smiled at her with gratitude. She returned a sneer of disdain. 

     "Are you ready?" Alistair's hand landed on my shoulder. 

     "I am." I answered, clapping him on the back. "We have a mission, after all."

     "For a moment," he said, a cheeky grin stamped on his face, "I thought you had forgotten."

     I smirked and shook my head. "No." I told him. "I remain well aware of what is to come."

     "Salem, I'm..." he cleared his throat, "I'm...happy for you."

     "Thank you, Alistair." I replied, knowing that with those stilted words, he meant much more than he said. "We should go. Redcliffe is waiting."

     "As  _you_ say." he teased, falling back to the group. 

     I strode out in front of them, into the warmth of the rising sun. The weight crashed in again, the stresses of a country trying to tear itself apart, the magnitude of having to kill a monster from myths and legends, the pressure of staying alive. I steeled myself and continued forward. 

      _In war,_ I remembered the warden's vow,  _victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. And in life?_

     I had asked myself this question before, the only part of living that the warden's creed did not illuminate. I glanced back at my strange assortment of companions. Leliana caught my eyes...and smiled. I had the answer now. 

      _In life...love._


End file.
